


What Becomes of Us

by brbsoulnomming



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Post - X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), college fic kind of, written before Days of Future past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:14:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brbsoulnomming/pseuds/brbsoulnomming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He missed them more than anything, but except for Johnny, they were still X-men.</i> He was on the run from them, too. Post X-3, Bobby makes a decision that changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Told mainly from Bobby's POV, and for the first few chapters, the story bounces back and forth between the present and backstory.

_NOW_

 

People’d been talking about how it was cold enough for snow, but the light rain falling from the sky proved differently. Bobby could’ve changed that, and if he’d been at the Institute he probably would have, but he was trying to keep a low profile. He adjusted his grip on the plastic grocery bags he was carrying and was grateful he’d decided to buy ice cream instead of getting something hot from the deli section of the grocery store for dinner. It may not have been the healthiest choice, but it was cheaper, and the cold temperature wouldn’t ruin his ice cream. 

It was only another block to his building and he quickened his pace, in a hurry to get there. It was dark, and this wasn’t a good neighborhood. Bobby was safer because he was male, and both looked like he worked out and like he had very little money, but there was still a chance someone might decide it was worth it. He was confident he could take just about anyone who’d try, but he’d probably lose his groceries in the process and there’d be twenty dollars down the drain. Plus, he really didn’t need to draw attention to himself. 

The streetlamps were out when he approached his apartment building, but that wasn’t a surprise. They’d been out since he started living there. He shifted the bags to one hand so he could unlock the door into the building, then he kicked it shut behind him. One of the lights in the small lobby was broken, too, but the remaining bulbs lit it up enough that he could see. 

The help desk that opened up into the office was empty, which was odd. Bobby’d never seen it empty. He was about to go over when someone moved into view, sitting down at the counter and smiling at him. It wasn’t Lorna or Tessa, the only two people whose names he knew around here, and even that was only because they owned the building. He still vaguely recognized her, though. He was pretty sure she lived on his floor. 

“Three e, right?” she asked him. 

“Um, yeah,” he replied. 

“You’ve got mail,” she told him, then grinned at using that phrase. “You want it now or wait until you’ve got a free hand?” 

“Nah, I’ll take it now,” he said, stepping over to the counter and trying not to freak out about who the hell knew his address and would be writing to him. 

“Kay, hang on,” she said, ducking below the counter and resurfacing with a pair of envelopes. 

She smiled at him again as she passed them over, her purple eyes meeting his blue ones, and she was definitely on the same floor as him. He’d never asked if they were contacts or natural, though he’d wondered. 

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing the envelopes and dropping them into one of his bags. 

“No problem,” she replied, going back to the history book that was open on the counter. 

He started back to the stairs, hearing a laugh coming from the rec room next door. For a moment, he felt a pain of homesickness and was tempted to join them, but he brushed it off. He’d only been there two months and he’d tried to keep to himself as much as possible; he wouldn’t know anyone in there. And besides, his ice cream was probably melting. 

Two flights of stairs and he was on the third floor, the top floor. Bobby eyed the vending machines off to the side of the stairs and considered getting a soda. He had some change left in his pocket, but he decided it wasn’t worth trying to juggle the grocery bags and continued on to his apartment. He shifted the bags again so he could open his door, shutting and locking it behind him. The people in this building seemed nice enough, but he had reason to be paranoid. 

He flicked the light on and crossed his apartment. It was nothing special, just an L-shaped room that had his bed, desk, and bookcase at one end and a couch, TV, and the table, microwave, hot plate, and mini-fridge that served as his kitchen area at the other. He was considering getting some kind of screen or something to separate the two areas, but until then they were mostly open to each other. He also had a bathroom and two closets, and since he didn’t even have enough clothes to fill one of the closets, he was using the spare as a pantry. 

The box of Ramen he’d bought got shoved in there, along with a couple boxes of cereal and a bag of Doritos. Milk and sliced turkey went into the fridge, which he reluctantly plugged back in. He normally just cooled down anything that needed it when he wanted it, but milk and lunchmeat wouldn’t keep without the fridge. The stupid thing really cut into his electric bill, though. He consoled himself with the promise of future bowls of cereal and that fact that at least he didn’t need to pay for the heater to be on.

That just left him with ice cream and the two envelopes, which he pulled out of the bag almost nervously. And then felt stupid and paranoid, because one was his electrical bill and the other was a letter from Canton State University thanking him for paying his tuition on time. He sighed and dropped them on his couch, then grabbed his container of ice cream. 

“Best dinner ever, Drake,” he muttered under his breath as he fished around in the drawer of his “kitchen” table for a spoon. He emerged triumphant and dug into the ice cream, wandering over to his desk. 

He sat down and turned on his laptop, waiting patiently for the thing to boot up. It was quite a few years old, could be slow as hell, and getting the power cord that had been taped back together twice to charge its battery was a constant struggle, but it had come cheap and it worked well enough for him. When it was finally up, he logged in to Canton State’s website. Classes had started two weeks ago, and all of his professors put their assignments and just about everything else online. 

A quick glance over the reading lists for his classes showed that he was caught up in all of them, and even ahead in his Intro to Accounting class. He signed in to his university email account, and had a message from someone in his psychology class. She’d sent them out to everyone, wanting to form a study session to prepare for the first test in that class next week. Bobby considered for a moment, then hit reply and said he’d be there. 

After that he signed out, and hovered over Gmail for a bit. He didn’t dare sign into his account on the Institute’s server, he knew they could track him through that. But he had his personal email, and he was tempted to check it. Just to see who’d emailed him, just to hear from his friends again, even if he couldn’t reply. But he didn’t. Both because he was slightly paranoid that they’d be able to track him over that, and because he knew that if he read emails from his friends, he’d give in and email them back. 

He missed them. He missed Kitty’s smile, missed joking and bickering and prodding her into laughing when she was upset and her doing the same for him. He missed Pete’s cartoons, missed his way of just sitting there and listening, missed how when he laughed, it was deep and loud and just happy. His missed the gleam in Jubilee’s eyes whenever she was up to something, missed hearing her and Kitty gossiping in the hall and then having them trail off suspiciously whenever he was near and grin at him, even when he’d heard what they were talking about and it had nothing to do with him.

He missed Rogue. Marie, whatever she was going by then. He missed the way the sun caught in the white streak in her hair, the slow way she smiled at him, the rare moments when she was laughing and looked purely happy, at ease. He missed her gloved hand in his, her head on his shoulder when they curled up on the couch to watch a movie. The way she spoke, soft Southern accent that was beautiful no matter what she said. 

Bobby liked accents. He’d liked his own, once, before he learned how to talk without it. Like Pete, and Johnny, and even Kitty kind of, though he liked theirs better than his. He’d joked that they should form a club, the People Who Used to Have Accents But Learned to Talk Without Them Because People Mocked Us club. Kitty and Pete’d liked the idea, but Johnny just laughed sarcastically and told him that the initials of that name alone were too long for him to care and they didn’t form anything cool, anyway. Later, Johnny told him that he didn’t care if people mocked him, he’d just gotten tired of stupid people asking him if he was from Australia. Bobby’d known that was bull (back then he’d rarely added the shit part, even in his own thoughts), but he’d just told Johnny that he could be an honorary member, then. 

Okay, this trip down memory lane had to end. Bobby closed out of the internet browser and shut down his computer. He missed them more than anything, but except for Johnny, they were still X-men. He was on the run from them, too. 

~*~

_THEN_

His head hurt. It couldn’t have been physical pain, it’d been almost a week since Alcatraz and any injuries he had were mostly gone. Mostly. But he’d been an ice form, and despite any comments he or other people had made to the contrary, Joh - Pyro wasn’t that hard-headed. Even in his thoughts he still slipped up. That scared him, a bit. If what happened on Alcatraz wasn’t enough to convince him that Johnny didn’t exist any more and Pyro had taken his place, Bobby didn’t know what would. He’d seen the look in Pyro’s eyes. If Bobby hadn’t won, he’d be dead. 

It freaked him out. And it made him wonder why he’d dragged Pyro off of the island, why he’d pulled him on the jet with the rest of the X-men as they high-tailed it back to the Institute. Except he knew why. Because Bobby couldn’t just leave Pyro there, couldn’t stand the thought of the guy who used to be his best friend dying, even if it was obvious that Pyro not only didn’t care if Bobby died, but was perfectly willing and eager to be the cause of it. 

Pyro was locked in the sublevels now. Waiting in one of the rooms while they gave him medical attention and decided what they were going to do with him. Bobby didn’t know. He and Kitty and Pete and even Marie were all apparently considered adults now, although Bobby wondered how much of that had to do with what they’d done on Alcatraz and how much was because with the Professor, Dr. Grey, and Mr. Summers gone, they were really short on staff. 

Whatever the case, they’d been in on every meeting that Storm or Dr. McCoy had called, talking about the Cure, politics, how to keep the school running, and who would be teaching what classes when they started up again. But no one had brought up Johnny. Pyro. Damn it. 

They were in a meeting right now, though. Just Storm and Beast and Logan. None of the younger members of the team had been invited, and Bobby knew why. They must have been talking about what to do with Pyro. 

Someone knocked on his door and Bobby pulled a smile on his face, sitting up and grabbing one of his math books so it looked like he was doing something other than lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. 

“Come in!” he called. 

Rogue opened the door and walked in, closing it behind her. 

Her presence still brought a smile to his face, even with everything going on. “Hi, Rogue.” 

“Marie,” she told him softly. 

He nodded. “Right, Marie. Sorry. What’s up?” 

She sat down next to him, tucking her hair back behind one ear. “They’re having a meeting,” she said. 

“I know,” he replied. She seemed upset about something. Normally, he would have pulled her into a hug, and she would have protested a bit but let him. But things, things hadn’t been the same between them since she left. It wasn’t about the Cure. Bobby respected her right to take it, and understood why she’d wanted to. He didn’t think anything bad about her for wanting it. 

It was just that she hadn’t been there. Things had been really bad, Professor Xavier had died, she had to have known that things were going to get worse. That there’d be a confrontation. And she’d left. She hadn’t been there when they were fighting on Alcatraz, she didn’t know what they’d gone through because she’d left. And he wasn’t mad at her, and he still loved her, but he didn’t…He just didn’t know what to do with that. 

“They’re having a meeting without us,” she prompted. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

She frowned. “You don’t. I mean, you don’t think they don’t want me there because I took the Cure, right?” She looked down. “No, it’s stupid. Otherwise you guys would be there, too. But why would they keep us out, when we’ve heard everything they’ve been doing since Alcatraz?” 

It was a perfectly natural thing to be worried about, but Bobby had to resist the urge to tell her that she was more likely to be left out of meetings because she’d abandoned the X-men when they needed her than because she’d taken the Cure. But he did resist, and he felt bad for even thinking it. She’d done what she felt she had to do, and no one could ask for more than that. He was her boyfriend, he should be telling her that everything was okay. And he could do that. 

“I don’t think it’s anything we did, Marie,” he told her. “Or that they think we’re too young for whatever they’re talking about. I think they’re probably talking about Pyro.” 

Another frown, this time in confusion. “So? Why would that be something we can’t be there for?” 

He blinked. “Because we were friends with him? And anything we recommend is likely to be biased.”

“Were being the keyword there, Bobby,” she said. “After what he did, we sure ain’t friends with him anymore. I mean, he tried to kill you.”

For a moment, Bobby was annoyed with her. Because she’d assumed this was about her or them, rather than about Johnny. And because she didn’t seem to care what happened to him, or if he had someone to speak up for him, and because she was probably right. Pyro had tried to kill him, Kitty and Pete probably felt the same way Marie did. 

“I don’t think they want to make us go through that,” Bobby said. “No one should have to sit around trying to decide what to do with someone who used to be their best friend.” Especially not when he was pretty sure what the options were going to be, and Bobby was also pretty sure he’d fight against most of them if he was in on the meeting. 

“Oh,” she said, then leaned over to give him a hug. “I’m sorry, Bobby.”

He hugged her back. “I just, I don’t know what to do,” he admitted. 

“We’ll get through this, Bobby,” Rogue said, stroking bare fingers through his hair. “We’ve been through bad times before, we just have to keep going. Everything’s gonna be okay.” 

He held on to her, letting her comfort him, but he didn’t say anything in reply. Because he didn’t really know how it could be.


	2. Chapter 2

_NOW_

Apparently on this campus, study session meant party. Bobby recognized only a few people there from his class, but there were over a hundred students in the class, and for all he knew everyone at the party could have been in the class. People were drinking and dancing, but it wasn’t too loud, and there were a few groups that had books in front of them, despite the fact that their conversation wasn’t covering anything class related.

Social situations had never bothered him, and he’d managed to join a few conversations early on. But after awhile, most of the people seemed to be in groups or pairs, dancing, talking intimately, or doing other things that Bobby didn’t want to intrude on, so he just grabbed a cup of something and wandered around the house. He spotted a girl his age sitting on one of the couches with her psychology book open in her lap. She was wearing faded jeans and an old sweatshirt, with red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, so Bobby assumed she hadn’t been aware this was going to be a party, either.

“Hey,” he greeted with a friendly smile as he sat down. “Having any luck with the studying?”

“Not really,” she replied, looking up at him. “It’s probably about time I just give up.” 

“You held out longer than me,” he said, tilting his head at the cup in his hand. “Who knew study session was code for party?”

“It’s not, usually,” she replied. “Unless you happen to belong to Delta Beta Cappa, or whatever the hell sorority this is.” 

“Whatever it is, it’s a lot fancier than where I live. Think they’d make an exception on the no guys allowed thing?” he asked with a grin.

She laughed. “Maybe if you told them you were gay. And we live in the same apartment building.” 

He blinked. “We do?” 

“Yeah,” she replied. “You’re right next door, actually.”

“Oh. I, uh. I thought you looked familiar,” he offered kind of lamely. 

She smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. I work for Tessa and Lorna sometimes, it’s my job to know who lives there.” She paused for a moment, then added, “But not their names, so unless you want me calling you three-e all night…”

He grinned a bit. “I’m Bobby.”

“Ryn,” she returned. “What’re you drinking?”

He looked down at his cup. “Whiskey. You want some?”

“Trying to get me drunk?” she asked, serious for just a moment before she grinned. “Sure. Bet it’s shit, though.”

“It’s not the worst, but yeah,” Bobby agreed as he offered it to her. Bobby liked it well enough, but Johnny’s drink of choice was whiskey, and Bobby knew enough to know that this wasn’t the best. Johnny probably wouldn’t even drink it. And he refused to acknowledge that Johnny’d been on his mind when he selected his drink.

She took a drink from the cup, made a face, and handed it back to him. “That’s not whiskey. That’s what happens when someone buys cheap shit, runs out too quickly, and has to add a whole lot of water to make it last.” 

Bobby grinned as he took it back. “Whiskey snob.”

“I’m Irish,” she said. “It’s in my genes.” She paused, then informed him, “If you’re sick, by the way, I’ll kill you. I so don’t want whatever disease you might have.” 

“Oh, sorry, did I forget to tell you? I have the plague,” he replied. 

She smirked. “Don’t have to worry about killing you, then, you’ll die on your own.” 

“Nope, I’ve got the new and improved version of the plague. All of the germs, none of the dying,” Bobby said. 

“Funny,” she replied, grinning a bit. “I’d fucking haunt your ass forever.”

“Maybe that was the point,” he told her. “Hot chick following me around? I can live with that.”

“Hot chick ghost,” she pointed out. “That’d rule out your chances of scoring.” 

“Nah, that’d just mean I’d have to be creative,” he said. 

She waggled her eyebrows at him with a slightly mocking smile. “Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.”

He almost said something about dating a girl he couldn’t touch, almost, because he’d fallen in to familiar bantering and he hadn’t really talked to anyone since his friends at the Institute. But it wasn’t something he could blurt out to people who weren’t them, anyway, and he didn’t want to think about it because she wasn’t his girlfriend any more. “I’m just a very creative person.”

“Creative enough to figure out how we’re supposed to study with a party going on in the background?” she asked, glancing back down at her psychology book.

“Maybe if I concentrate really hard,” Bobby commented, half wondering if she’d noticed the hesitation before his comment and changed topics, or if she was just random like that. “I actually really could have used a study session, too.”

“I can probably manage it, this isn’t my first psychology class,” she said. “It’s just annoying.” She paused, considering. “There’re rooms upstairs, you wanna go kick some couple out of one and claim it for studying?” 

“That sounds like a great idea,” he said, standing and waiting for her to gather her stuff before they headed upstairs. “So are you a psychology major?”

“Yup,” she replied. “I was putting off taking this class because it’s just got the general, intro level stuff, but I’ve taken all of the psych classes I’m interested in that don’t have this as a prerequisite.” 

“What year are you?” he asked curiously.

“I’m a sophomore,” she said. “You? Both questions, actually.”

“Freshman,” he said. “And I’m an accounting major.”

She paused to look at him. “Really? Like, you actually want to be an accountant?”

He laughed. “I know that’s strange, but yeah.”

“Dude. Math is evil. How do you do it?” she asked, knocking on the door they’d stopped in front of. 

“I like math,” he protested. 

She shook her head at him, then shoved open the door. “Weirdo. Hey, we lucked out, this one’s empty.” 

They spent the better part of three hours going over all of the material that was going to be on the test, occasionally getting distracted or going off on tangents but mostly staying on topic. Finally, at around two AM, Bobby’d commented that he had an early class the next morning and should probably get back. Ryn agreed and they put away their school supplies before heading outside.

“You need a ride back?” Ryn asked, pulling a set of car keys from the pocket of her sweatshirt as they walked to the street, stopping in front of a green Jeep. 

“Nice car,” Bobby said, looking it over. 

“Thanks,” she replied. “It’s not mine. I borrowed it from Riley, on the first floor. Otherwise I’d’ve had to walk home.” 

“I didn’t think of that,” he admitted with a bit of a self-depreciating smile. 

“So is that a yes I want a ride or an oh fuck now I have to walk home?” she asked, then grinned at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t mug people who live with me.” 

“Good policy,” he said, then nodded. “Yeah, I could use a ride.”

“Hop in, then,” she told him, unlocking the doors and climbing into the driver’s side. 

Loud, vaguely angry music in German came on the car’s stereo when she turned the car on, and Bobby raised his eyebrows slightly. 

She grinned at him. “Remind me to take that CD with me. Riley’ll be annoyed if I leave it again and Rammstein starts blaring when he leaves in the morning.” 

The name sounded familiar, and he thought someone back at the Institute might have listened to it. “Now why would he be annoyed by deafening music in another language first thing in the morning?”

Ryn laughed. “I know! But for some reason, it bothers him. Weird.” 

“Men,” he commented, just to get another laugh, and he grinned when he got one. It was familiar, trying to provoke laughter. 

They drove the rest of the way mostly in silence. Well, no, not silence, since Rammstein was still playing and Ryn was singing along, after cheerfully commenting that no, she didn’t really have any idea what she was singing. 

When they got to their building, she pulled the car up in front of it and stopped, but didn’t turn it off. “I’m going to run over to the grocery store while I’ve got a car, but you said you had an early class tomorrow, so I figured you probably didn’t feel like going.”

“Thanks,” Bobby told her, unfastening his seatbelt. 

“No problem,” she said, then added, “Hey, you know, you should come hang out with us sometimes.”

He hesitated with his hand on the handle of the door. He didn’t like not having friends. He was a social person, he’d never not had friends, and it felt weird, wrong that he didn’t now. But things were different now. “Maybe,” he said noncommittally. 

She nodded. “Good luck on the test.”

“You, too,” he told her as he climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him and heading up to his apartment. 

~*~

_THEN_

Wednesday morning, the morning after he’d talked with Marie (he remembered to use Marie, now, maybe because they’d spent all night just huddled together in his room and he’d been shirtless and she’d been in a bra and he got the feeling it was as much because he needed comfort as because she wanted to touch, explore, skin-on-skin, and he didn’t have a problem with that), Storm called a meeting. It was early in the morning, and Bobby woke up to the sound of his comlink going off with Marie curled up in his arms. It was the first time since Alcatraz that his sleep hadn’t been interrupted by nightmares, filled with people screaming and fire and smoke and things dissolving right in front of him.

Just the fact that it was his comlink waking him up for something important instead of Professor Xavier’s gentle voice in his head sent a pang of grief through him and he pulled Marie closer, kissing her forehead. She stirred, peering at him through sleep-blurred eyes. 

“I love you,” he told her, because he really did, and it seemed important that he should say it more often. He never knew when he would never get another chance to tell her, when one of them would be gone, just gone, gone like the Professor and Jean and Scott and Johnny. Although not the way Johnny was gone, never the way Johnny was gone. 

She blinked at him in surprise, then smiled, slow and sleepy, and tilted her head up to kiss him. It was still new, kissing her without worrying about icing up enough to protect him but not enough to freeze her, and it distracted him for long enough that he didn’t even realize she hadn’t said anything back. 

And then his comlink buzzed again, and he pulled back. 

“Hello?” he asked as he leaned over and picked it up one handed so he could keep his other arm around Marie. 

“Team meeting, Bobby,” Storm told him. “Is Marie with you? She’s the only other one we haven’t reached.”

“Yeah, she’s here. We’ll be right down,” he said, shutting it off and turning back to Marie. “Storm’s calling a meeting.” 

She slid out of bed and he reluctantly let her go. They got dressed in silence, and he laced his fingers through hers as they walked down the hall. Everyone else was already in the meeting room when they arrived. The three older team members looked like they hadn’t slept at all, and Kitty was still wearing her pajama bottoms. 

He raised an eyebrow at her when she caught him looking at them and she winked at him.

“No one said these meetings had a dress code,” she commented. 

“Why am I never informed of these things? I could’ve gotten an extra five minutes of sleep if I’d known I didn’t have to get dressed,” Bobby said. 

“Sleep. Right,” Kitty said, waggling her eyebrows at them. 

Marie blushed and Bobby dropped the subject before it went any farther and Logan started glaring daggers at him or something. The two of them sat down and looked over at Storm, who Bobby noticed was looking incredibly tired. Hank had said nothing, merely offered them the barest hint of a smile when they entered, and Logan was leaning against one of the walls, arms crossed and glowering. Not that the glowering was all that unusual, but this time it seemed different. Bobby suddenly had a really bad feeling about this meeting. 

“We had a meeting with the president last night,” Storm told them, a hint of apology in her voice. 

Kitty blinked. “You were talking with the president? Why? Is he mad that Doctor McCoy’s spending so much time here when he‘s supposed to be off making us look good to other countries?”

Hank smiled slightly. “No, Kitty, the president supports the time I’m spending here while we resolve matters closer to home.”

“Oh. Kay. Then what?” Kitty asked. 

“We were discussing the proper course of action to take involving the member of the Brotherhood we’re currently housing in our sublevels,” Hank said. 

“Oh. Do they want him? Cause they can totally take him,” Kitty said.

“Kitty,” Bobby started, but she was shaking her head. 

“No, Bobby,” she interrupted. “You saw him on Alcatraz. He was blowing up cars and killing people. You would have been dead. And then he would have been dead and then I would have been locked up for killing my ex-friend, so, yeah. He deserves what’s coming to him.” 

“Was anything resolved?” Pete asked, cutting in before Bobby could reply. 

“Yes,” Storm told them. “They requested that we give Pyro over to be Cured and put on trial, and we agreed.” 

“You’re going to _Cure_ him?” Bobby demanded. 

“Pyro is a terrorist,” Storm reminded him. “We can’t afford to harbor him. Not after all of the crimes he’s committed.” 

“So you’re just going to hand him over and let him be Cured and then killed,” Bobby said. 

“I assure you, Bobby, he’ll have every right to a proper trial by jury,” Hank told him. 

“Right, because so many people are willing to give mutants a chance that the jury that sits in on Pyro’s trial will be completely fair,” Bobby replied.

“He’ll be treated no differently than anyone else facing the same charges. That’s the best we could hope for. Asking for special treatment in Pyro’s case would only serve to undermine our efforts to show that mutants are neither inferior nor superior to humans and should be treated in exactly the same manner,” Hank said. 

Bobby understood that. He did, but it still didn’t feel right to him. He could admit that it was likely because it was his best friend, and he was a little biased, but he just couldn’t stomach the idea of handing him over. “We’re already treated differently. Most of us killed people back on Alcatraz. If we handed everyone over to the government who’s destroyed someone’s life, there wouldn’t be very many X-men left.” Two, actually, Marie because she wasn’t there and Kitty because she’d been getting Jimmy out for most of the fight.

“There’s a difference between killing in a battle where your life depends on it and killing innocent people to make a statement,” Storm said. “You _know_ this, Bobby. Pyro made his choice, and now he has to live with it.” 

“No, he doesn’t,” Bobby retorted. “The trial doesn’t matter, just being Cured will kill him.”

“He’s too dangerous with his powers, Bobby. There’d be no way to keep him contained,” Storm said. 

“Bullshit,” Bobby said, even though he knew it was a good point. “Magneto was even more dangerous, and look how long they managed to keep him locked away. And it’s a hell of a lot easier to keep fire away than it’d be to keep out anything metal.”

“Magneto still got out,” Kitty pointed out, then looked a bit guilty. “Sorry, Bobby. But it’s true.”

Bobby bit his lip. “He was one of us. How can you just give him over to them?” 

“There is no us and them. We’re all working towards the same purpose,” Hank said.

Logan snorted and pushed away from the wall. “Look, I don’t like the idea of handing him over to the government any more than you do, Iceman. But the fucking moron chose his side, or did you hit your head against his too hard and forget? We don’t have another choice, so deal.” 

“We’re transferring him over on Monday,” Storm said.

Bobby didn’t say anything. The meeting kept going, just for a little bit longer, and Marie and Kitty kept sneaking “are you okay” glances in his direction, but he just pretended not to notice. When the meeting ended, he muttered something about going for a walk and took off.


	3. Chapter 3

_NOW_

His last class of the day got out early, and with a lack of any new assignments, which meant Bobby was free for two days until his psychology class. In a good mood, he followed the rest of the class out the door, then turned and headed for the elevator. The auditorium for his class was on the fifth floor, and while Bobby normally didn’t mind stairs, nearly two hundred students trying to cram down two staircases got really frustrating really quickly. Fortunately, he’d found the elevator in the third week of class, and few other people seemed to know about it. 

Sure enough, the only other person in the elevator was a blond guy who looked a few years older than his age. Bobby gave him a smile in greeting and got one back, then went to push the button for the ground floor. It was already lit, though, so he just leaned against the back of the elevator while it started moving. And then jerked to a stop. 

Bobby blinked, and the blond guy groaned and leaned over to push the down button, and then the door open button. When nothing happened, Bobby opened the phone box that was next to him and picked up the phone. 

“Um. Hello?” he asked into it. 

“Did it break down again?” a girl on the other end asked. “Damn. Okay, we’ll get it looked out, and we’ll have it fixed as soon as possible. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t take longer than an hour. Or two. The phone’ll ring when I’ve got updates, okay?” 

“Uh. Okay. Thanks,” Bobby said, hanging up the phone and turning back to the guy. “She said it should be fixed in an hour or two.” 

“Mmm. Great. Like usual,” the blond said. 

“Were you coming from class or going?” Bobby asked. 

The blond grimaced. “Going.” 

“That sucks, man,” Bobby said sympathetically. 

“This is the third time this has happened, and I missed my class the other two times. You’d think I’d know not to, but.” He shrugged. “I was running late. Oh, well. My roommate’s in that class, she’ll take notes for me.”

The blond had an accent, Southern, but a different Southern than Marie’s. Bobby didn’t know accents well enough to place it, but he liked it. 

“What about you?” the blond asked. 

“I’m done with classes for the day,” Bobby replied. “Luckily, because I couldn’t have missed either of the ones I had today.” 

The blond nodded. “This is the only class I have where absences don’t count against me. I’m Sam, by the way,” he added, offering his hand. 

“Bobby,” he returned as he shook his hand, grip firm and friendly, and Sam grinned cheerfully at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bobby,” Sam told him. 

“You, too,” Bobby agreed. “Even if it is making you miss class.” 

Sam smiled again, slow and amused. “I’m sure you’re more interesting than my professor anyway.” 

“Don’t bet on it, I’ve been told I’m very boring,” Bobby replied with a joking grin. That was mostly a lie. Mostly, because he _had_ been told he was boring, but not often, and mainly by Johnny when Johnny was trying to get him to skip class or convince him that having a bonfire in their room was a good idea and would result in no scorched walls, no matter what happened previous times, and Bobby’d told him no. 

“You’d have to really, really try to be more boring than him,” Sam said. “You could sit there and do nothing and I think you’d probably still be more interesting.”

“Really?” Bobby asked, shaking his head in mock dismay. “All this time I’ve been actually having conversations with people when I could’ve just been standing there and still be entertaining.” 

“Hmm. Other people’s standards for entertainment are probably higher than mine,” Sam told him.

“Damn,” Bobby said. “Well, as long as I hang around you, I’m set.” 

Sam laughed. “Good thing you got stuck in an elevator with someone as easily entertained as me.” 

It turned out to be a very good thing, because it took closer to three hours for them to get the elevator to start working again. Fortunately, Sam was relatively good company, and even when they weren’t talking, the silence was companionable. When they finally got out, it was already dark, and Bobby waved good-bye to Sam before hurrying to the bus station on campus. 

But sadly, he’d missed the last bus back to the stop by his apartment building. Bobby spent a moment staring forlornly at the clock on the wall of the campus station, then sighed and kicked at a bank of snow before he started walking. It was a twenty minute walk from campus to his building, and once again he had the problem of not being a typical mugging victim, but there was still a chance. 

“Aw, shit,” someone commented from behind him, and he turned around to find the blonde, purple-eyed girl that lived in his apartment building looking at the bus schedules. 

“Miss the bus?” he asked. 

“I fucking knew it,” she said in reply, then bit her lip. “Um. Are you heading back to the building?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “You want to walk with me?” 

“That’d be great,” she said, a slight hint of relief in her voice. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” he said. 

“I’m Cass, by the way,” she told him as they started walking. 

“Bobby,” he said, smiling over at her.

“Yeah, Ryn told me,” she replied. “She said she was in your psychology class.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I talked to her a few weeks ago at a study session that turned out to be a party.” 

“She mentioned that,” she said. “And by mentioned I mean complained about for three days.” 

Bobby grinned a bit. Ryn had sat next to him in class a few times after that, and she’d complained about it once or twice to him, too.

“So have you started the paper you have due Tuesday?” she asked. 

He hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out how she’d known about that, then realized that Ryn had probably mentioned it. “Yeah, I’m about halfway through.”

“You’re ahead of Ryn, then,” she said. “She hasn’t started yet.” 

“She said something about just re-using an old paper,” he said, then asked, “Are you a psychology major, too?”

“No, I’m a history major,” she replied. 

“Huh. What do you do with a BA in history?” Bobby asked, falling into a bit of a sing-song voice out of habit. 

Cass grinned widely at him. “The same thing you do with a BA in English. Absolutely nothing.”

He laughed. “You can go to grad school?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “At least I know what I’m doing for the next five or six years. What’re you majoring in?”

“Accounting,” he replied. 

“Ahh, you’re one of those people who went for a useful degree,” she said. “And yay math.” 

“You like math, too?” he asked, slightly surprised. 

“Yeah,” she replied. “I don’t go out and get math problems and do them for fun, but I like it.” She must have caught his sheepish smile, because she grinned at him. “You’re one of the people who does math problems for fun, aren’t you?” 

His smile widened a bit. “Hey, I _like_ them.” He was used to getting taunted for it. Johnny was the only one who never made fun of him for it, and he figured that was probably only because Bobby’d found out that Johnny’d already read all of the books they got assigned in their English classes for fun. 

“Well, I do spend a lot of my free time playing Sudoku,” she said. 

He made a dismissive gesture with one hand. “Sudoku’s not math. It’s pattern recognizing and logic. And luck.”

“It has numbers in it,” she informed him. “That totally counts as math.” 

They reached their apartment building then, and Bobby followed her in after she unlocked the door.

“Are you busy?” she asked as he closed the door behind them. “We’re probably going to order pizza or something, if you want to come hang with us.” 

He hesitated, but only for a moment before giving in and nodding. “Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds good.” 

Cass smiled at him and they headed for the rec room. There were a couple of people already in the room watching TV: a black-haired guy sprawled on his stomach over one of the shorter couches, a guy with a shaved head perched on the back of the same couch, Ryn sitting backwards in a plastic folding chair, and a Native American woman reclining on one of the larger couches, her feet propped up in the lap of the guy sitting next to her, who Bobby recognized as Sam. 

“Hey guys,” Cass greeted. “What’s up?” Without waiting for them to answer, she turned back to Bobby. “That’s Shade and West over there, West is the dumbass taking up the whole couch because apparently he can’t sit up, Ryn you know, and that’s Dani and Sam.” 

“Hey Bobby,” Sam greeted with a grin. “If I’d knew you lived here, I’d’ve offered you a ride.” 

“Nah, then there would’ve been no one to walk Cass home,” Bobby replied. 

“Ahh, can’t resist the chance to help out a pretty girl?” Sam asked. 

“Helping damsels in distress is in my job description,” Bobby said with a grin, ignoring the little voice at the back of his mind that said, _Not anymore._

“Hey!” Cass protested. “I’m so not a damsel in distress, thank you.”

“Sure you are, hon,” Ryn commented, grinning at her. “It’s a blonde thing.” 

“I resent that,” Sam said. 

“Me, too,” Bobby agreed, running his fingers through his short hair. “It may be dirty blonde, but it’s still blonde.”

“You two can be the exceptions that prove the rule,” Ryn informed them. “And this is Bobby, for those of you who didn’t catch that. I’m only here for a little bit, Riley and I are hitting the movies.” 

“On a date,” Dani added. “And hi, Bobby.”

Ryn rolled her eyes. “It’s _not_ a date.” 

“Uh-huh,” Dani said. “That’s why you curled your hair.” 

Ryn tucked a few strands of hair behind one ear, which, yeah, looked wavier than the last time Bobby’d seen it. “Like this is the first time I’ve curled my hair. I just got bored.” 

“Bored while waiting for your date,” Shade told her with a smirk, then sent a wave in Bobby’s direction. “Hey Bobby. Just in time to make fun of Ryn and her boyfriend.”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend!” Ryn protested. 

“Yet,” West said. “And I’d suggest not making fun of her, Bobby. You’re closer to her than we are, she’ll probably hit you.” 

“That would be why I haven’t said anything,” Cass said, crossing the room to sit in a chair next to the couch that West and Shade were on. “Now I’m good. Ryn and Riley, sitting in a tree.” 

“Hey, Bobby, do you have anything that you don’t want?” Ryn asked. 

Bobby fished around in the pockets of his jeans. “I’ve got a bottle cap?”

“That’ll work,” Ryn said.

He handed it to her, and she set it between her thumb and forefinger and flicked, sending it flying in Cass’s direction. Cass ducked, and the cap bounced harmlessly off the wall behind her. 

“Ha,” Cass commented, then promptly got smacked in the head with a crumpled up paper cup that Ryn had tossed right after the bottle cap. “Hey! Ow!” 

Ryn smirked. “So shut up about me and Riley already.”

“I wasn’t the only one saying things,” Cass grumbled. 

“No, you were just the only one who said you were safe from getting hit,” Shade replied. “Moving on to more important things. Who wants what on their pizza?” He paused, then added, “You in for pizza, Bobby?” 

Bobby grabbed one of the chairs next to Sam and Dani’s couch and sat down. “I’m always up for pizza. And I like pepperoni and sausage, but I’m not picky.”

“Dude, sweet,” Cass commented. “You’re our third.” 

“Third?” Bobby asked. 

“Me and Cass like pepperoni and sausage,” West said. “But our rule is three people get a whole pizza, and everyone else always gangs up on us with their sausage hate.” 

“It’s not our fault sausage on pizza is gross,” Shade commented. 

“Says the guy who puts up with pineapple,” Cass retorted. 

“It’s good!” Ryn said. 

“Better than sausage,” Shade agreed. 

“Yeah, well, you weirdos aren’t getting it tonight, because Ryn’s not in,” West commented. 

“Ryn, you suck,” Dani commented. “Way to abandon us to the sausage people.”

“Nope, we’re still on for pineapple,” Shade said. “Zeph’s off work soon, and she said she’d be good for the pizza when she gets here.”

“Sweet,” Dani said cheerfully. 

“So we’ve got one pineapple, one pepperoni and sausage, and one regular pepperoni for Sam and his pineapple and sausage hate?” Shade asked. 

Sam grinned. “You know, it’s possible that I really like pineapple and am just doing this so I get a whole pizza for myself.” 

“For you and everyone else who wants more,” West corrected. 

“Ryn, honey, staring at the clock won’t make it move faster,” Dani commented. 

“Huh?” Ryn asked. “I, uh. I wasn’t staring. I was looking.” 

“Hey guys,” someone greeted from the door. 

Bobby turned to see a guy with light brown hair standing there, dressed nicely. The guy noticed him and gave a friendly smile. 

“Hi, I’m Riley,” the guy introduced.

“Bobby,” he replied. “So you’d be the owner of the Jeep? It’s nice.” 

Riley’s smile widened. “That’d be me. And thanks. Sorry I can’t stick around, but Ryn and I have a movie to catch. You ready to go, Ryn?” 

“Yeah, sure,” Ryn replied casually. “See you guys later.” 

She and Riley left, and Shade fished a card out of his wallet and held it up.

“Okay, guys, it’s time for the usual fight over who has to call,” Shade said. 

“So not it,” Cass said immediately. 

“You’re never it,” West said. 

“I hate calling,” Cass reminded him. 

“I’ll call,” Bobby offered. Kitty and Jubilee had usually made him call for pizza when they ordered it back at the Institute. They’d wheedled him into meeting the pizza guy at the main gate, too, and Bobby’d used to drag Johnny with him to keep the pizzas warm. Johnny only complained a little, because it meant he could eat pizza on the way back before everyone else and get the best slices for himself. After Johnny left, Pete had come with him to carry the pizza, because otherwise the girls complained that Bobby made the pizza colder faster. 

“Dude,” Cass said. “Bobby, you’re officially always eating pizza with us, so we can get sausage and you can call.” 

“Way to sweet talk him into hanging out with us and getting stuff for us,” West said, rolling his eyes. 

Bobby grinned. “I’m used to only being wanted for my mad skills,” he teased, pulling out his cell phone. “What’s the number?” 

Shade handed him the card and Bobby called for the pizza, adding two orders of breadsticks and a pair of two-liter Cokes at Cass and West’s insistence. They watched TV and chatted while they waited for the pizza, then there was a mad dash as everyone tried to pull together enough cash to pay and ended up handing it all over to Cass, who didn’t have any on her and was going to pay with her card. 

Before long, all of the pepperoni and sausage, most of the pepperoni, and three quarters or so of the pineapple was gone. Bobby was considering another slice of pepperoni when a young woman with shoulder-length blue hair walked into the room and fell face-first onto the couch next to Dani. 

“Ugh. Dead,” she muttered into the couch. 

“Rough night?” Dani asked. 

“ _Dead_ ,” she repeated. “We were so busy today. And there were these three tables at the end of my shift that were just so. Annoying. They couldn’t decide what they wanted and kept changing their order and making me go back and forth and take their food back and fix it and they refused to leave and one of them short changed me.” She rolled over and sat up. “Do I smell pizza?” She reached over to take a slice of pineapple, then paused at noticing Bobby. “Oh! Hi. I’m Zephyr. And I don’t usually complain this much, I swear.” 

“Bobby,” he said, grinning absently in amusement at just how many times he’d said his name that day. “No worries, I’m used to a lot more complaining.” 

She tilted her head, looking closer at him. “Hey, you live next door! Between me and Ryn. Nice to finally meet you.” 

“You, too,” he said. 

Bobby ended up staying down there for a lot longer than he meant to. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, having people to hang out with and talk to. When he finally headed back up to his room, he wondered if he’d just made things worse. 

~*~

_THEN_

He spent the rest of Wednesday avoiding everyone. He walked around the grounds for almost two hours and somehow ended up at the garage. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d punched his code into the box that held the keys to all the vehicles and grabbed the ones to his favorite car. He drove off, no destination in mind, just driving. He needed to think, or maybe not to think. Bobby didn’t know what he needed. 

The car’s radio was still turned to the classical music station he liked, but right then he needed lyrics, something to sing along with so he didn’t have to make sense of everything running through his head. He rummaged through the glove box and found an unlabelled CD, then an AC/DC CD. He knew most of the songs on that one, so he put it in, turned it up, and focused on singing the parts he knew and memorizing the ones he didn’t. 

It worked until he got to one of the songs and remembered that the first time he’d heard it had been when Johnny was blaring it in their room. Bobby’d known the band, but not the song, and when he’d asked if it was them just to be sure and mentioned he liked them, Johnny’d snorted and asked how he could like the band and not know one of their best songs. But after the song had ended, Johnny’d pulled the CD out of the stereo and told Bobby he could burn it if he wanted to. Johnny always used burn instead of copy, and sometimes he did it with this little smirk that made Bobby wonder if he did it just because he liked saying burn. 

Johnny used to smirk a lot. Kitty and Jubilee joked that his smile programming was broken and it defaulted to smirk. They’d even categorized his smirks (‘I know something you don’t know’ smirk, ‘you’re a moron’ smirk and accompanying eye roll, ‘ha ha very funny’ smirk, ‘I find your pain amusing’ smirk, ‘keep that up and I’ll torch you’ smirk, and so on) and Pete had made a little cartoon out of it. 

When Bobby’d told Johnny about it, he was pretty sure Johnny thought it was really entertaining. But Johnny’d wanted revenge, just for the principle of it, and Bobby’d helped him because he was pretty sure they joked and drew little cartoons about him that he didn’t know about. They’d gotten a week’s worth of detention, but the looks on Kitty and Jubilee’s faces when they’d gone back to their room and found all of their clothes pinned to the ceiling under a foot or two of ice had been so worth it. They’d complained for weeks that their best clothes had been completely ruined, even though mostly everything had been just fine after it was dried out, and Bobby pointed out that they could’ve been much meaner. Johnny’d wanted to burn everything. 

That had sparked off a prank war that lasted for several weeks, until Scott had gotten the coffee laced with methylene blue that was supposed to be for Kitty. They’d been very sternly told to knock it off, warned about playing with chemicals, and given another two weeks of detention. Johnny’d actually laughed for about a minute straight at the idea of Scott not knowing what was going on and freaking out about peeing green, and Bobby figured that was worth more detention. 

He didn’t mind detention, anyway, since usually it was just him and Johnny in one of the classrooms with one of the teachers watching them while they did homework. That was what they’d be doing if they weren’t in detention, anyway, although Johnny worked a lot slower when he was in detention and forced to work. That was slightly annoying, since Bobby couldn’t look over Johnny’s math and get Johnny to look over his English assignments until Johnny was done. Johnny wouldn’t trade assignments until they were back in their room, anyway, like he didn’t want the teachers to know that he got Bobby to correct his math for him. 

Bobby didn’t care, and his English papers usually ended up a lot more marked up than Johnny’s math, so he should have had more to hide. But Johnny was like that; he hated it when people learned he had weaknesses. Bobby actually couldn’t remember how he’d found out Johnny wasn’t all that great in math. It just seemed like they’d always corrected each other’s homework. But he must have found out somehow, and he was probably the only one who knew. Well, except for maybe Storm, if she’d figured out why Johnny was suddenly doing so much better in math. 

He wasn’t supposed to be thinking like this. Bobby’d blocked it off, he’d stopped all trains of thought that led to Johnny when he’d left and joined Magneto. Bobby’d convinced himself that he didn’t miss Johnny, that it was better with him gone, that Johnny’d made his choice and now he was the enemy. That was the way he was supposed to think, that was the way everyone else thought. That Johnny was gone, and now there was only Pyro. 

For awhile, he’d managed to do a pretty good job of ignoring five, going on six years of knowing Johnny, but obviously, it wasn’t working so well any more. Not when now he was realizing that Johnny knew him better than anyone, and he probably knew more about Johnny than anyone else. Maybe more than Johnny’d wanted him to know. But obviously not enough, because he’d never thought Johnny would ditch them to join Magneto. 

That helped, a little bit. He just had to keep thinking of that, that Johnny’d turned traitor. He’d made his decision, picked his side, and it wasn’t with them. He’d even been ready to _kill_ Bobby. Just keep reminding himself of that, and maybe then Bobby’d be okay with handing him over. 

Except he couldn’t. His brain kept jumping around, remembering things like the time they’d snuck out to go to the midnight premiere of Star Wars: Episode Three, which Johnny’d said he was only going to because it was the first time Bobby’d actually wanted to sneak out and he couldn’t miss that. But Bobby’d snuck glances at him during the movie, and Johnny’d looked completely captivated. 

Or when Bobby’d tried to hold Johnny’s lighter. Bobby’d been curious, wanted to know why he always had his lighter in his hand, playing with it, and on the third day they were roommates, Bobby’d absently reached over to take it and look at it. Johnny’d freaked out and pulled away, glaring at him like he’d done something horrible. Now, it occurred to Bobby that without Johnny’s lighter, he was powerless, just like a normal human. Bobby’d pretty much just tried to take his power away in a place he wasn’t comfortable in.

It meant something, then, the first time Johnny’d let him hold it. Bobby’d been typing his history essay, and Johnny been leaning over his shoulder, reading it and flicking his lighter. They were supposed to go see a movie or something, and Johnny got impatient and shoved Bobby’s hands aside, casually dropping his lighter into one of them and telling him to hold it while Johnny quickly reworded some of it and finished it up. At the time, Bobby’d been surprised, and he’d known it was sort of a big deal, but he hadn’t said anything. 

But it meant there’d been a time, once, when Johnny trusted him. Bobby wondered when that had changed. When Johnny’d gone from trusting him with his lighter to trying to kill him. Bobby wasn’t sure it mattered. Johnny’d trusted him, and five years of being his best friend still meant something to Bobby, even if it didn’t seem to matter to Johnny any more. 

Really, Bobby’d known he couldn’t let them give Johnny over even before he’d known what their decision would be. He headed back to the mansion, still uncertain of everything except that he had to get Johnny out. Even if it meant that Bobby’d have to go, too. 

It wasn’t hard to think of an excuse for why he’d be packing bags and putting them in his car and getting ready to leave. Bobby showed up in Storm’s office Thursday morning, waited for the younger student in there to leave, and then closed the door behind him.

She watched him, then when he turned around to face her again, said quietly, “We’re not going to change our plans, Bobby.”

“I know,” Bobby replied, letting defeat enter his voice. “That’s not why I’m here. Well, it is, kind of. I need to get away for a little bit. Just, just for a week or so.” 

Her expression softened. “I’m sorry, Bobby. I wish there was something else we could do, but we can’t – ”

“I _know_ ,” he said again, cutting her off. “You made the only decision you could. But that doesn’t mean I have to be here for it.” 

She sighed. “Can you wait until Saturday to leave? Logan’s going out Friday and he won’t be back until sometime Saturday, and I don’t want to be short two team members.” 

Bobby felt guilty, and he knew he looked it. He wasn’t just depriving the X-men of a team member for a week or so while he got his head together, he was leaving. He was doing the one thing he thought he’d never do, what he’d never wanted to do. He’d always wanted to be an X-man. Always. Ever since his first day here. And now that he finally was one, completely, he was leaving. He’d been upset at Rogue – Marie for leaving them, and he still was, and how was he any better?

He felt like it was different. She’d left in the middle of things, he was leaving after they were done. She’d left so she could stop being who she was, he was leaving because who he was couldn’t live with the decision the rest of the team had come to. She’d come back, he wasn’t going to. He didn’t know if any of that made a difference, and right then, he didn’t think he cared.

Especially because, amongst the guilt, he was thinking that with Logan gone, Friday night would be the perfect time to get Johnny out. 

“I’ll wait until Saturday,” Bobby said. “A few more days, it doesn’t matter. I just want a little break.”

Storm remained silent, looking at him like she knew what he was really thinking and not saying. She was good at it, too. She’d learned the look from the best, after all. But Bobby’d gotten that look from the best too many times, and Storm wasn’t a telepath. He just looked back at her, and he realized it wasn’t suspicion in her eyes. It was concern. That right there almost changed his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting her down. But he hadn’t saved Johnny on Alcatraz just to let the government kill him. 

“Where are you planning on going?” she asked finally. 

“The beach, maybe? I don’t know,” Bobby said honestly. “I was sort of just planning on driving for a bit. Clear my head.”

She nodded. “Be careful. And call when you stop, or when you decide where you’re headed.”

“Okay,” he agreed, wondering when lying had started being so easy. When he’d gotten good at it. “I’ll let you get back to work.” 

He started to leave, then hesitated. “Thanks, Ororo. And I’m sorry, for having to leave.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” she told him. “And we’ll miss you, while you’re gone.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said, and that, at least, was true. So incredibly true.


	4. Chapter 4

_NOW_

It was two weeks before Bobby found himself heading down to the rec room in search of company. He hadn’t been avoiding anyone, not really, he’d talked to Ryn in the class they had together and Cass, Zephyr, West, and Shade when he ran into them on his way in or out of his apartment. It was just – he hadn’t wanted to hang out in a big group again. It felt too familiar, and too strange because it wasn’t the same, it could never be the same. 

But it was two months into the term, and he was drowning in his psychology paper. He’d resorted to using the metaphor “a rolling stone gathers no moss,” but he was pretty sure he was going to have to cut that out. He’d gone off on a tangent about stones that didn’t want to roll and were never supposed to roll but somehow found themselves rolling anyway. What were they supposed to do with all the moss they’d gathered before when they stationary and that they wanted to keep but couldn’t because now they were rolling? 

He stared at his computer for a few moments, then hit save and shut it down. Yeah, it was time for a break. The door to the rec room was open when Bobby headed downstairs, and he could see some B-horror movie on the screen of the TV. Except for Cass, everyone he’d seen in the room the last time was there, watching the screen with varying degrees of interest. Bobby stood in the doorway, just for a moment, then Sam glanced up and greeted easily, “Hey Bobby.” 

“Hey,” Bobby returned. 

“Have a seat, we’ve got the best view of the shit horror movie that should’ve been a comedy,” Ryn said, scooting closer to Riley to make room for him on the couch. 

Bobby sat down next to her. Shade, who was sitting sideways in a chair close to his side of the couch, tilted upside down for a moment to grab a bottle of beer from a half-full six pack on the floor next to him. He straightened and offered the bottle to Bobby. 

“Thanks,” Bobby said as he took the bottle and twisted off the top. 

“No problem,” Shade replied. “I get ‘em free from work, so it’s not the best, but.” He shrugged. “Free alcohol. Oh, and it never made it to the fridge, so it’s kind of warm.” 

Bobby very nearly said he could fix that, but he remembered it would be a bad idea just in time to shut up. Instead, he focused on chilling the liquid inside his bottle without affecting the glass and said, “Any alcohol is good with me right now. The paper I was working on was kicking my ass.” 

“Is it that psychology one?” Ryn asked. 

“Yeah,” Bobby said. 

“Again? Dude, how many papers do you guys _have_ in that class?” Zephyr asked. 

“Way too fucking many,” Ryn said. 

“She’s paper crazy,” Bobby agreed. “She’s been giving us one every week.”

“I gave up on mine,” Ryn said. “My plan is to write the rest at four am on the day it’s due.”

Bobby grinned. “Good plan.” 

“Ha ha,” West commented. “Ha. Guess how many papers I have to write?”

“You don’t count,” Zephyr informed him.

“Sure I do. Ahh, being graduated with no homework is so much fun,” West said. 

“Yeah, from a two year community college, while the rest of us will have big fancy degrees,” Ryn countered. “Plus, now you have to repay your student loans and go to work and shit.” 

West grinned. “I draw on people for a living. I don’t go to work, I go have fun.” 

Ryn considered that. “Good point. Why haven’t I dropped out of school and come to work with you yet?” 

“Because you wanted the big fancy degree?” Bobby suggested, then turned to West. “You’re a tattoo artist?” 

“Yup,” West said. “I work at Rose Red. If you come in, I’ll give you a discount.” 

“Or,” Ryn said. “You can come to me and I’ll do it for free.” 

West rolled his eyes. “Using my equipment.” 

“Hey,” Ryn protested. “I let you draw all over me when you were still learning. I fucking _deserve_ more use of your stuff.”

Bobby grinned a bit. “I think I’m pretty good tattoo-less, anyway. But check back when I’ve had more alcohol.” 

Ryn looked over at Shade. “Give him another beer,” she suggested teasingly. 

“Now who’s the one trying to get people drunk?” Bobby asked. 

Ryn grinned and opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by Cass’s arrival. 

“I heard the word drunk, which means there must be alcohol, which means you should totally share,” she announced as she dropped onto the couch next to West. 

“Well, someone’s dressed nice tonight,” West commented, looking her over. 

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” Zephyr asked. 

“Yup,” Cass replied. “Well. Had three-quarters of a date, then I got too fed-up and bailed. I fucking hate men. They seriously, seriously suck.” She paused to take the beer Shade held out to her and added, “Present company excluded.” 

“Do we need to kick someone’s butt?” Riley asked. 

Cass thought about that for a moment. “Nah. He’s just a stupid, annoying, egotistical frat boy. He’s not worth it.” 

“Don’t worry. I know what solves shitty dates and paper-crazy professors,” Shade commented. “Hockey.”

“Hockey?” Bobby repeated. “Playing or watching?”

“Playing,” West said. “There’s a pond that not many people know about, and it should be frozen over enough to skate on.” 

“Awesome,” Bobby said, then paused. “I don’t have any skates, though.” Normally, that was never a problem, but he couldn’t just make an ice blade on the bottom of his shoes here. 

“I’ve got an extra pair,” Shade said. “They’re figure skates, but Zeph and Dani only have figure skates and Cass’s hockey skates are dead, so you’ll be in good company.” 

“I think I’ll ref today,” Dani said. “I’m kinda tired, and that way the teams’ll be even.” 

“Eight pieces, then?” Riley asked, tearing up a piece of paper he’d found somewhere. “Anyone have a pen?”

Ryn pulled one out of her pocket and he marked the back of four pieces, then dropped them into the cowboy hat Sam handed him and passed the hat around. Bobby grabbed a piece when it came to him and handed the hat off to Shade, then looked down to see that his was one of the unmarked ones. 

“Sweet,” West commented, leaning over Cass so he could see Shade’s piece. “We’re on the same team. You guys are doomed.” 

“Who’s on the unmarked team?” Riley asked. 

Bobby raised his hand, and saw Zephyr and Ryn doing the same. 

“Have you played hockey much, Bobby?” Ryn asked. 

Bobby shrugged. “A few times.” No need to brag. And also no need to let the other team know just how good he was. Okay, so maybe when it came to sports, Bobby was a little competitive. That was supposed to be a good thing, right?

“Yup, fucking doomed,” Ryn said. “Shade and West are like the fucking kings of hockey. Why haven’t we made a rule that you two aren’t allowed to be on the same team?”

“Because then I wouldn’t be on the team that’s so very obviously going to win?” Cass suggested. 

“I think I agree with Cass here,” Sam said.

“We should force a handicap on them,” Zephyr said. “Make one of them skate on only one leg or something.” 

Riley laughed. “Why don’t we actually play before you start dooming us?” 

Shade grinned. “Before, after, either way, you’ll be doomed. Any volunteers for driving?” 

“I will,” Dani offered. “I’ve got the biggest car.” 

“I’ll drive, too,” Riley said. “My hockey stuff’s still in the back of my Jeep from a few days ago. Yours too, Ryn.” 

“You guys played hockey without us?” Sam asked. 

“Just some one-on-one stuff,” Ryn said. “No big deal.” 

“One-on-one,” Cass said suggestively. “I’ll bet.” 

Riley ducked his head slightly and Ryn glared at her. Bobby was reminded of Jubilee, back when he and Rogue had been too unsure in what their relationship was for it to stand up to jokes, but Jubilee hadn’t seemed to get that. Johnny’d done it, too, but, he’d known full well what the situation was, he’d just done it anyway. 

“You’re just upset that us playing hockey threatens your victory,” Riley said. 

“Yup,” Cass agreed, apparently knowing when to shut up. “That’s totally it. I’m going to go grab my gear now.” 

“Everyone grab their stuff and meet out by the cars?” Shade suggested. “I’ll grab my extra gear for you, Bobby.” 

“Thanks,” Bobby told him, flashing him a smile. 

A short time later, Bobby found himself sitting next to Zephyr in the back of Riley’s jeep. The last time he’d skated was on the fountain, with Kitty, and thinking of that brought a whole new pang of grief and homesickness. Both because it’d been right after Professor Xavier had died and it put that fresh in his mind and because he’d likely never skate with Kitty again. He swallowed, and forced his mind back to the present. 

Bobby’d never been particularly paranoid about things like this, but he wondered if this had been one of his best ideas. He was sitting in the backseat of a car belonging to a guy he barely knew, he had no idea where they were going, and he was going there along with seven other people, most of whom he’d only met twice.

_Brilliant, Drake,_ he thought to himself. _Even a sheltered Boston boy like you should know this is stupid. Don’t take rides with strangers? That’s not even street smarts 101, it’s kindergarten street smarts._

Bobby frowned, wondering when the voice in his head had started reminding him of Johnny, then ignored it. This group seemed okay, and it wasn’t like Bobby was all that helpless. Then Zephyr turned towards him to tell him not to worry, she was a figure skater, not a hockey player, so they could be inexperienced together. He smiled at her and told her that he couldn’t ask for a better partner in inexperience, but he might have a few tricks up his sleeve. 

When they got to the pond, just minutes ahead of Dani, Bobby went along with Shade to check and see if it was frozen enough to skate on. It wasn’t, but Bobby fixed that before Shade realized it and the pair of them pronounced it fit for skating. For a moment, Bobby missed the appreciative looks, the shared grins at an example of power he’d gotten at the Institute. But the others were smiling, pleased, glad that the ice was thick enough for them to play, and Bobby realized he was content with indirect gratitude.

They split off into their teams, had brief meetings, and then started playing. It took him only a little bit to get used to skates of metal rather than hand-crafted ice, but it was enough that the other team was already grinning widely at their inevitable victory. When Bobby scored their first goal against West fifteen minutes into the game, though, their grins faded a bit. 

They’d chosen captains, and there were a few play-making sessions, but with four on four the game was pretty informal with a focus on fun. There was a lot of horsing around, but both sides were obviously trying to win, and Bobby was in his element. The game was slightly rough, especially between Shade, West, Riley, and Ryn, who seemed to be entertained by how much they could knock each other to the ice. Bobby joined in when he realized it was okay, which evened things up a bit since Riley and Ryn were switching off as goalie. It was close, very close, but in the end Bobby’s team won by one goal, to lots of cheering from Riley, Ryn, and Zephyr and groans from the others. 

“I think we got hustled,” West commented, grinning and eyeing Bobby with a new respect. 

Bobby grinned back. “I just don’t like to brag.”

“You can brag all you want,” Ryn informed him. “You’re also officially captain next time Shade and West are on the same team.”

“What if the three of us are all on the same team?” Bobby asked, a bit too pleased with his victory to think about her assumption that he’d be there next time they played. 

“Then the rest of us hand you guys the victory and we pick teams again,” Riley said. 

Shade grinned. “I can handle those terms.” 

“Yeah, I bet you can,” Zephyr commented, shoving him playfully. “When do I get those lessons you’re always promising me?” She paused. “Screw that, I’ll just ask Bobby.”

Bobby grinned at her. “Playing hockey with pretty girls is always on my list of things to do.” 

They laughed and joked the entire way home, but now that Bobby wasn’t playing hockey anymore, his mind started wandering. He was glad he’d gone down to hang out with them. At least for a little while, he’d been able to just play hockey. Part of him wasn’t really sure that was such a good thing, though. With what he’d done, with what he’d ruined, he _should_ be always thinking about what he’d left behind. Yeah, that was a healthy attitude. Okay, no more thinking like that. 

When they got back, he headed up to finish working on his paper, but he couldn’t concentrate on it any more than he’d been able to before, and finally he gave up and went to bed. 

~*~

_THEN_

“So you’re leaving us,” Kitty commented as she dropped down next to him on the bed. 

For a moment, his breath caught and his chest constricted, because she’d found out, she’d figured it out somehow and she knew what he was planning. But then he realized she was probably talking about the “vacation” he was taking and his shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. 

“One day you’ll phase in here like that without knocking and I’ll be changing or something,” Bobby informed her. 

She grinned at him, waggling her eyebrows. “Why do you think I keep doing it?”

He laughed. “Perv.” 

She shook her head. “No, that’s you. I just try to make you feel more at home with returned perviness.”

“Me? A perv?” Bobby asked in disbelief. “I’m offended. You know I’m too innocent for that.” He gave her his best “boy next door” grin. 

“Pfft. Innocent. Right. With how many times you’ve snuck into the girls’ showers?” Kitty teased. 

Bobby considered protesting that he hadn’t _snuck_ into the girls’ showers, and it had been only to freeze over their shower pipes, anyway, but then he just grinned. “Okay, you caught me. I’m a perv.” He leered at her. 

“See? I knew it. And quit that, or I’ll smack you,” she told him.

He stopped, grinning. “I’ll ice over and then your hand will just be cold.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Hmph. I’ll have you know that I can make a blowtorch just from coconuts and palm fronds, all Gilligan’s Isle like. So, like, watch out.”

Bobby laughed. “Congratulations! You’re Ginger.”

“If I have to be one of them, I’m so Mary Anne,” Kitty replied. “And you’re Gilligan.”

“Yeah, right. I’m the awesome guy smart enough to not get stuck on a desert island and is back home with plumbing and electricity, sipping lemonade,” he said. 

“Nope, sorry. Gilligan,” she said. “Are you forgetting my blowtorch?”

Yeah, I’m totally watching out for your coconuts and palm fronds,” Bobby said. “ _Not_ laughing at that mental image.” 

“See?” she said. “Pervert. Stop thinking about my coconuts.”

Bobby paused. “I was going to say something like, ‘but Kitty, you know I can’t resist your coconuts,’ but I think that might be too lame. Or maybe too creepy.” 

“Definitely too creepy,” she agreed. “And also so not true. You obviously can resist my coconuts, no matter how much you think about them.”

“I’m just really good at hiding it,” he told her. 

“Uh-huh,” Kitty commented, raising her eyebrows at him. “You know, I’m so super glad that we had this conversation about my coconuts.” 

“You love talking about your coconuts,” Bobby replied. “Your coconuts bring all the boys to the yard.” 

Kitty grinned. “I could teach you, but I have to charge.”

Bobby paused for a moment, then said, “Yeah, that was the extent of my knowledge of that song. I’ve got nothing now.” 

“That’s okay,” Kitty said. “It’s probably time to stop talking about my coconuts before we really get into creeper territory.”

“I thought I was a perv?” Bobby asked, not quite ready to let the conversation drop. If they stopped joking around, she’d probably follow up on her first comment, and he’d really like to put that off as long as possible. 

“Perv, creeper, same thing,” Kitty said. 

“I’d rather have creeper,” he said. “The Creeper’s a comic book character. He guest starred in Batman.” 

“Huh.” She considered that. “You should go track him down and team up with him. The Pervert and the Creeper. Best superhero team ever. They’ll save your life and spy on you in the shower.” 

Bobby grinned. “Hey, even heroes have to have a little fun every now and then.” 

Kitty nodded. “Is that why you’re leaving?” 

He was really glad he wasn’t eating or drinking anything, because otherwise he probably would have choked. He almost choked just on the air he was breathing, and he shifted uncomfortably on his bed. “No. I’m leaving because I have to.” 

Kitty sighed. “You think I want to be here when they take him away? I mean, I know I wasn’t as close to him as you were, but he was my friend, too.” 

“But you think this is the right thing to do,” Bobby said. 

“No, I don’t.” She looked up at him. “I don’t _know_ what the right thing to do is, okay? But what are we supposed to do? We can’t just keep him here forever. And he did all those things. He killed people and, I mean, he’s what we’re supposed to be fighting against. Seriously, Bobby. If it wasn’t John, if it was another person who’d done what he did, we’d have no trouble.” 

Bobby was silent for a moment. Then he said softly, “But it _is_ John.” 

“I know,” Kitty said sadly, looking at him like she knew something more that she wasn’t telling him. “But he’s not John anymore. God, Bobby, you _know_ I wanted him to come back, too, but he didn’t. He’s been with the Brotherhood too long. You can’t just kill people like that and still be a good guy. Maybe, okay, maybe if he _really_ regretted it, but he doesn’t.”

“How do you know?” Bobby asked. 

She just looked at him. “You were his best friend, and he tried to kill you. Shouldn’t that tell you something? _He_ tried to _kill_ you. Anyone who tries to kill you is on my list of people we hate.” 

Bobby didn’t say anything. He wondered if he’d be this forgiving if it’d been Kitty that Pyro had tried to kill instead of him. And then decided he was kind of delusional, because there was still a part of him that insisted that Johnny’d never actually kill Kitty. 

She sighed. “Where are you going?”

“I dunno.” Bobby shrugged. “I was thinking about the beach.” 

Kitty shoved him, a half-hearted attempt at playful. “You better not being going to the beach, not without me.” 

There was a second where Bobby almost asked her to come with him, then. Where he realized that she wanted him to ask her to go. The two of them, on a beach somewhere, laughing and joking and trying to pretend like one of their best friends wasn’t back home dying. But he wasn’t going to a beach. And she wouldn’t understand what he was really doing. Hell, he wasn’t even sure _he_ really understood it. But he wished it was different. He wished she’d be able to go with him, because he didn’t want to lose her. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll take you to the beach when I get back,” he told her, pretending for just a little bit that he really was just going off to clear his head, he really would be back, and he’d definitely see her again. 

“Good,” she said, nodding. Then she stood up, leaning over to wrap her arms around him. “Don’t take too long. I’m gonna miss you.” 

Bobby slid his arms around her, closing his eyes as he hugged her close. “I’ll miss you too, KitKat.” 

She smiled as she pulled away. “Later, Bobcat.” 

He watched her walk through the door. “Goodbye, Kitty.” 

~*~

_THEN_

There was a huge pit in his stomach when he knocked on Marie’s door. Actually, it was more like a black hole than a pit. A black hole that was sucking everything around it down into nothing-ness. Yeah, that was a good mental picture. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Talking to Kitty had been hard enough, he didn’t know how he was going to tell the woman he loved that he was leaving and never coming back without actually saying that. 

The look on her face when she answered the door told him that yes, she had heard that he was going to be leaving, even though he’d only told Storm that morning. 

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly. 

She held the door open wider, then closed it behind him without saying a word before turning around to look at him. 

“I don’t know where I’m going,” he told her in response to the silent question in her eyes. 

She nodded. “Is this, does this have anything to do with us?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe? It has to do with everything that’s going on right now, everything in my life that’s just really confusing and I can’t really handle it,” he said, talking a little too fast, but she got it. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to make it through this conversation without telling her too much, or maybe not enough. 

She bit her lip. “I love you, Bobby,” she told him softly. “I know, I know I don’t say it often, or even enough, but I do.” 

“I know,” he said, even though he kind of hadn’t. He’d been pretty sure, and he had liked to believe she did, but he hadn’t been certain. “I love you, too. But…”

“But you can’t do this.” She glanced down, nodded to herself, then looked up. “Bobby, just, just get it over with.” 

He blinked, confused. “Get what over with?”

“Just break _up_ with me.” 

He frowned. “I didn’t come in here to break up with you!”

“You came in here to tell me things aren’t working out for you here and you’re leaving for an unknown amount of time. It’s the same thing,” she replied. 

“No, it’s not. You left. Things ‘weren’t working out for you here’ and you _left_ and didn’t even tell me. Was that you breaking up with me? I was still here when you got back,” he said, working to keep his voice down. 

“ _Were_ you?” she shot back. “Things haven’t been the same since I came back, Bobby, it’s obvious. We don’t talk, I don’t know what you’re thinking anymore, and sometimes you look at me like you have no idea who I am.” 

Bobby opened his mouth to say that sometimes he wasn’t sure who she was anymore, then closed it again. “I’m sorry. I love you. Why can’t, why can’t that be enough?” 

Her eyes softened and she reached out, resting her bare hand against his cheek. “Sometimes it is, but I don’t think this is one of those times.” 

Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he was doing. What the fuck he was giving up, just to save the fucking asshole who tried to kill him. If Bobby had needed more proof that he had a hero complex, he didn’t now. “I wish it could be.” 

“Me too, sugar. Me too. Maybe, maybe in a couple of days you’ll come back and your head will be clear and we’ll sit back down and realize that it is enough,” Marie said. “Maybe not. But you’ll come back, when you’re done thinking, and we’ll figure it out.”

He swallowed roughly as guilt hit him again. He couldn’t even bring himself to say anything to that, nothing directly in response. Instead, he just quietly told her, “I told Storm I’d leave Saturday.” 

She nodded and he opened his arms, pulling her against him. She slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him, then tilted her head up so she could press her lips against his. It was wonderful, the way kissing her always was, but it felt slightly different. Bobby’d heard it used in movies and books and always thought it was kind of cliché and stupid, but maybe he’d been wrong and it _was_ the best way to describe it. 

It felt like goodbye.


	5. Chapter 5

_NOW_

He’d put it off as long as he could, but after registering for his second term of college and sending in his payments, his funds were dangerously low. If he wanted to keep paying rent and buying food, he’d have to start job-hunting. Bobby hadn’t wanted to, because it was just so permanent. An apartment, going to college, friends, a job, it was almost like he really planned on staying there for awhile. Like he’d fit himself into somewhere else, some new life that had little to do with his real home. He’d done it before, when he’d left Boston to go to school at the Institute. 

Bobby’d destroyed his chance of still having a home in Boston when he’d been born a mutant, or maybe when he’d brought over a friend who’d nearly burnt the house down, and now he’d done the same with the Institute because the choices he’d made turned him into a traitor. Maybe he wasn’t meant to have the kind of home that was forever. Maybe he’d had it all wrong. Maybe he was the one who could never stay in one place, not Johnny. Or maybe it was both of them. Maybe they really were a lot alike.

Or maybe he’d been spending too much time thinking lately and he needed to do what he’d come downstairs to do and get his mail before he ended up standing at the foot of the stairs and staring off into space for a few hours. Lorna was on the phone when he approached the help desk, but she was the only one there, so he leaned against the counter to wait. She saw him and smiled, holding up one finger before returning to her phone conversation. 

“Keep talking, asshole, it’s not going to change what I’ve already told you. There’s no one here named West Kent.” She paused, then rolled her eyes. “Look, I really don’t want to go to jail just because I had to kill you for annoying the hell out of me. So shut up, and if you’re really so desperate for a booty call that you’re trying to track this guy down in places he doesn’t live, you can come by tomorrow and look at the register. Then you can see he’s not there and leave me the hell alone.” She paused again. “Okay. Tomorrow. And if I hear from you again after that, I’ll risk jail.” She hung up without waiting for an answer, then turned to Bobby. “What do you need, hun?”

He blinked at her. “Um. Isn’t that guy going to be kind of pissed when he sees that West really does live here?”

Lorna smiled a bit. “Even if he does come in here, he won’t find West’s name. We don’t have security, but we can still keep the assholes from getting at you guys.” She stopped, looking at him curiously for a moment, then said, “If there’s someone bothering our tenants, we do what we can. If that means having a list of people who don’t live here if someone asks, then.” She shrugged. “Hmm. Tessa’d remind me to ask if you were interested.”

Briefly, Bobby wondered if that was even legal. Fortunately, he was smart enough not to ask, and he was ready to politely decline when he realized that if anyone called asking about him, he’d very much like to not be there. If the X-men found him, he doubted they’d be using the phone to check, but it couldn’t hurt, so he nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.” 

She looked like she’d been expecting that answer, which made Bobby shift slightly uncomfortably. “Do you have a name ready or do I have to make one up?” she asked. 

Bobby considered that, then said, “Charlie. Charlie Sheppard.” It was a combination of two characters from the movie _The Iceman_. Charlie was the Iceman, Dr. Sheppard had been the main character. When Bobby had found out there was actually a movie called _The Iceman_ , he’d immediately gone out and rented it. He’d forced Johnny to watch it with him (well, actually, he’d just put it on in their room, but since Johnny was in there he’d _had_ to watch it, so Johnny’d blamed him). Johnny’d gotten a kick out of it when the Iceman turned out to be a caveman, but the movie had kind of sucked and in retaliation Johnny’d gone out and rented a whole bunch of movies with fire or burn in the title, including _St. Elmo’s Fire_ , which he had apparently picked up without reading the back. Johnny’d been pissed, and ranted about false advertisement for like ten minutes.

“Did you need something else?” Lorna asked. 

He blinked, focused his thoughts away from the past, and nodded. “Do I have any mail?” 

Lorna looked under the counter to check and pulled out a couple of rolled up newspapers. “Just these.”

“Thanks,” he said as he took them. 

She nodded and he headed to the rec room with his papers. He dropped into one of the chairs, greeting Shade, Zephyr, Dani, and Sam, who were already in there. He’d been getting the _New York Times_ and the _Washington Post_ , just to keep on top of the news, especially mutant related (and maybe to keep an eye on signs of unexplained arsons), but those wouldn’t help him in his job search, so he set them aside and opened up his copy of the local newspaper. With any luck, he’d be able to run any potential jobs by the others and see if they knew if the place was any good. 

He had better luck than he thought, because he’d only been looking at the Classifieds for a minute or two when Shade noticed and asked, “You looking for a job, Bobby?”

“Yeah,” Bobby replied. “I figured it’s probably a good idea if I’d like to keep living here.” 

Shade grinned a bit, then after a moment said, “Well, we just lost three of our guys at Rendezvous, the bar I work at.” 

“I, um. Don’t really know how to mix drinks,” Bobby said, although it occurred to him after he'd spoken that his first protest should have been that he wasn’t quite twenty-one yet.

“How are you at stopping fights?” Shade asked. 

Bobby smiled, amused even though no one would understand why that question was mildly entertaining. “Pretty good.”

Shade nodded. “You have some free time tonight? I can give you a trial run.”

Bobby blinked. “You serious?” 

Shade grinned. “Yeah. Ryn and Cass and Zeph and I work there, and West used to before he abandoned us to tattoo people. We’re open seven days a week and we got a whole bunch of shifts to fill, and we get a lot of college students who quit when they graduate or decide they can’t handle it and school.”

“It’s great,” Zephyr said. “I know, I was complaining, but it’s a great place to work. The pay’s good, the atmosphere’s great, and you get free food after your shifts.” 

“That’d be awesome,” Bobby said. “I’d really appreciate it, man.” 

“No problem,” Shade said, shrugging. “You work out, you’ll be doing me a favor. It really sucks when we’re short-handed. My shift starts at seven tonight, that work for you?”

Bobby nodded. “Yeah, definitely. Thanks.”

By midnight that night, Bobby had a job. Shade’d taken him to the bar, which looked like shit on the outside but was relatively large and in excellent shape on the inside. The bar was crowded, filled with people playing pool and dancing was well as sitting at the bar or one of the tables. Shade showed him around, explaining that usually they liked to have eleven people working per shift, three bartenders, three waiters, three bouncers, and two cooks. It didn’t happen often, though, so most people did a little of everything. Except the cooks, who were always there. 

After the tour, Shade told him that his job for the night would be to keep order as best he could; break up any fights, kick people out when he deemed it necessary. There was another guy doing the same, but he’d be outside, so Bobby was pretty much it. Cass and another girl were waitressing, and he should also keep an eye on them. The bar patrons were usually fine and the girls could take care of themselves, but just in case. Lastly, Shade said if things got tough to come find him, and then he joined Ryn and a guy with shoulder length blond hair at the bar. 

Bobby moved hesitantly amongst the bar patrons, but after he quickly put a stop to an argument before it could result in physical violence, his confidence grew. He may have left the uniform behind, but part of him would always be Iceman, and he roamed casually through the crowds, watching. Just like a training exercise, keeping the peace, reading for anything, just because he wasn’t wearing the leather didn’t mean he couldn’t give off the same cool determination, non-threatening but confident, in control. It came naturally to him, or maybe it was too many Danger Room simulations, or maybe it was something of both. Crowd control, stopping riots, Storm had put him through exercises that were almost like this and he changed, just a bit, not completely becoming Iceman but not quite just being Bobby any more. 

The names used to not mean much to him. Just codenames, something fun, like a superhero game that was so awesome when he was younger and even more awesome because he didn’t have to pretend he had superpowers. It’d meant a little, just because he could be Iceman at school but not at home, but it had never been as big of a deal to him as it was to some of the others. Not until he started serious training with the X-men and he realized there was a difference between Bobby, the kid who liked making people smile and laugh, who did all of his homework and was a practical joker but a good listener and a bit of a (huge) dork, and Iceman, the X-man who stood tall and took charge, assessed the situation and acted, projected confidence enough that he’d lead most of the training exercises with just the junior X-men. If he was being honest with himself, the names had started meaning more when Johnny’d left and became just Pyro. 

He broke up only two other arguments that night, neither of which came to blows, and at a little before midnight, Shade found him again and pulled him into an office. 

“Job’s yours, Bobby,” Shade told him with a grin. “Let’s sign the paperwork and set you up with some shifts.” 

~*~

_THEN_

Friday morning, Bobby started packing. He had to be careful, had to make sure it looked like he was only taking enough to be gone for a couple of weeks. It should have been easy, he’d packed just that much whenever he went back to Boston for Christmas. But he hadn’t needed to pack much, then, he still had most everything he needed at his parents’ house. He’d wanted to start packing earlier, but since he wasn’t supposed to be leaving until late on Saturday, he’d thought that might be a little too soon. Still, he kind of wished he had, because he spent nearly an hour just kind of standing in the middle of his room, staring at all of his things and realizing just how many of them he was probably going to have to leave behind.

More than anything else, that really made him think about what he was about to do. He’d been putting it off, but now that he actually had to decide what he was going to take and what he was never going to see again…No. Obviously, he needed to stop thinking. Just focus on what he had to do. Just like another training exercise, another mission, someone he had to rescue. Put everything into planning and he could think about the rest later. 

He packed his clothes first. He pulled out his duffel bag and put in his favorite clothes, then all of the newest things he had (they’d last longer), and then put in as many of his other clothes as he dared. Shoes, beach towel, his pillow and favorite blanket, he could get away with that. His baseball card and comic book collection, no one would notice he’d packed those until well after he was gone. Some DVDs, all of his CDs, his iPod and portable CD player, those went into his combination backpack and shoulder bag, along with his GED and any other paperwork he thought would be important. At the time he’d taken the test to get his GED, he’d known that Professor Xavier could get him into any college he wanted, if he decided to go, but Bobby’d wanted to take the test anyway, just in case. Now he was glad he did. 

He wished he could take his computer, but it was a desktop, and there was no way he could get it out of his room without people seeing. Same thing with his snowglobe collection, although he really didn’t want to leave that behind. His parents had first started getting him snowglobes from places they went to when he and Ronnie were too young to go on vacation with them and had stayed with grandparents, but the snowglobe thing hadn’t really kicked off until he’d gotten to the Institute. The first Christmas he and Johnny had realized that they needed to get each other presents, neither of them had any idea what to get the other. They’d both gone with clichés: Bobby’d gotten Johnny a Zippo and Johnny’d gotten him a snowglobe with what looked like ice sculptures inside. They’d both been really entertained, and it wasn’t long before everyone was getting Bobby snowglobes, although no one ever gave Johnny more lighters. Maybe that was why, although they both moved on to giving other presents, Bobby sometimes added in a lighter but Johnny never gave him another snowglobe. 

When Bobby’s things were packed, he pulled out a notepad from his desk and sat down. He’d been going back and forth on whether or not he was going to leave a note behind, because he wasn’t sure he could handle writing something without changing his mind, but he’d decided he couldn’t just leave with nothing. So he wrote, and the general note he’d planned on became personal notes, and then he put them at the top of his top desk drawer and closed it, trying hard not to think about them. 

Then he dug around in the back of his closet and found a backpack that had once belonged to Johnny and, a little deeper, a fairly dusty, unmarked box. After Johnny’d left, Bobby refused to clean out his half of the room for as long as he could. When Professor Xavier finally offered to have someone else do it, Bobby’d gave in and done it himself. Most of the stuff went into storage. But he’d left Johnny’s favorite clothes hanging up in the closet and folded in one of the drawers of Bobby’s new, bigger dresser. And the box of all of Johnny’s favorite books, CDs, some of his lighters, the notebooks he wrote in that every once in awhile, he’d let Bobby read samples of, Bobby’d put that right at the front of his closet. Bobby still believed Johnny’d come back, then, and he wanted Johnny to see that he still had a place there. 

But Johnny hadn’t come back, and the box had gotten shoved further and further back into his closet. The clothes that had once been worn by both Johnny and him so much that neither of them could remember who they originally belonged to had become just Bobby’s, and he’d even started to wear a couple of things that he liked from the clothes that had been purely Johnny’s. It wasn’t like Johnny was ever going to come back to claim them. 

Now, though, Bobby transferred the contents of the box over to Johnny’s backpack, along with Johnny’s favorite clothes (Bobby’d already packed the things that had once been both of theirs and the clothes he’d started claiming as his). When he was done, there was still a little room, so Bobby stole some of Johnny’s space to put two of his favorite snowglobes; one his parents had gotten him and one that had been personalized, with a group picture of Johnny, Kitty, Pete, Jubilee, and himself goofing off. He couldn’t remember who’d gotten him that one. And then he just had to bring along his other favorite, the one Johnny’d gotten him, so he made room for it in his duffel bag. 

He loaded everything into the car he usually used, the one Storm had given him permission to take on his trip, and then headed into town. He picked up some basic food stuffs, the kinds of things he’d be expected to bring along for a short vacation, then, at the last moment possible, stopped by his bank and liquidated his account. It was this move that scared him the most, both because it was way too much money to be carrying around, and because he was worried that, for some reason, even though he’d opened the account after it became obvious his parents wanted nothing to do with him and it had nothing to do with the Institute, they’d call up Storm to let her know what he’d done and she’d want answers. 

Paranoid and trying not to look it, he hid the money in scattered locations in the three bags, then stowed the rest under the backseat of the car for now. Then he drove back to the Institute and locked the car, but kept the keys instead of putting them back in the box. It wasn’t an uncommon move if he was going to use the car again, especially if people knew he was, and no one really touched the car, anyway (they all had their favorites), but it was just another thing for him to be paranoid about. 

With all the time he’d spent getting ready, Friday night was there before he knew it, and Bobby found himself on one last assignment of surveillance duty, watching to make sure Pyro was sleeping peacefully like a good little boy. 

He slept differently now. It wasn’t like Bobby’d spent all of his time watching Johnny sleep, but after over six years of being roommates, he’d noticed things. Both of them had been restless sleepers, just in different ways. Bobby had difficulty getting to sleep, which often lead to late night ice cream trips, but once he was asleep he was out, and didn’t move until he was awake again. Johnny could fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he shifted constantly, rolling over, changing positions, muttering to himself, and generally being annoying until Bobby got used to sleeping in the same room with him. When Johnny’d left, Bobby’d realized he missed it. He found it even harder to get to sleep after that. 

But now, even though the sensors in the room monitoring everything about Pyro said that he was fast asleep, Bobby had yet to see him move. He was just lying there, perfectly silent and almost perfectly still. It’d taken him awhile, too, though Pyro’d closed his eyes and mimicked sleep, his heart and metabolic rate hadn’t slowed for almost an hour. There were other little things, too, like Johnny’d used to pile on the covers but kick his left foot free of them, so all you could see were his head, shoulders, and foot. Now he just had a single sheet pulled up to his waist. 

They used to both be able to “sleep like two lame guys having the best dream ever and refusing to wake up because this time, she might actually take off her clothes,” like Kitty put it. Bobby’d never had the heart to tell her that he had no problem getting his dream girls to take their clothes off, and more, he just always seemed to wake up before things got finished. And it’d also been slightly uncomfortable for him because while it was usually hot celebrities, girls back in Boston, or Rogue, once he’d met her, there’d been a couple of times when Kitty had starred in his dreams. But he didn’t _really_ think anything of it, because it’d also been Jubes, or Storm, or Doctor Grey, and once or twice it hadn’t been a girl at all, and those were the times when there’d been a couple of days where Bobby couldn’t look Johnny in the eye. But Bobby knew none of that meant anything except that he was a teenage boy surrounded by people that were incredibly attractive and not getting much action. 

Anyway, that was a long time ago, and the point was that both Bobby and Johnny had slept like the dead. Pyro still did, kind of, he sleep through lights being turned on and doors opening and his name called, but the second something touched him or a potentially dangerous noise sounded near him, he was awake, in body if not in mind. That, at least, was something that had changed about both of them. Bobby wondered if Pyro’d trained himself to be more aware of his surroundings while he slept or if it was just something that happened naturally while he’d been living with Magneto. It’d be just like Johnny to grow naturally into something that Bobby had to work on.

And there were other differences, too. Like, Pyro’s hair was stupid. Petty, Bobby knew, but it was. There was a reason that Bobby laughed the first time he saw him with that hair, even though it’d been the fifth time they’d met in battle and Bobby’d been pretty much convinced that Johnny was never coming back. His laughter was probably the reason he’d gone home with second-degree burns on his arms, but he couldn’t help it. It just looked stupid.

Johnny’s brown roots were starting to show. Not much, but enough that Bobby could see them. It must have been a little while since he’d last bleached them before Alcatraz, and obviously he hadn’t been able to get bleach since then. Absurdly, Bobby was glad. The brown was a little bit of the old Johnny showing through, just a little bit, but as long as he couldn’t get bleach, more brown would keep resurfacing. And it was a good thing that Bobby wasn’t analyzing what he was thinking, because it was really stupid that he was thinking that much into Johnny’s hair.

“That’s kind of creepy,” Logan commented from behind him, and Bobby started. 

It was a small move, barely even a twitch in surprise, but when Bobby turned slightly to face Logan, there was a smirk on his face that told Bobby he’d noticed it. 

“What is?” Bobby asked. 

“Watching while he sleeps,” Logan replied. “It’s the smart thing to do, not arguing with that, but it gives me the creeps.” 

“I’m only here because everyone else needs some sleep,” Bobby said, knowing he sounded a bit sullen and resentful. “And I’m leaving tomorrow, so I’ll get plenty of sleep then.” 

Which was true. That _had_ been the reason Storm asked him to take one last shift of guard duty. He just hadn’t let on that he’d wanted to take it. He’d been lucky, if he’d asked Storm to be put on it, it probably would have been suspicious. But no, they still trusted him, and that would never make Bobby stop feeling guilty. 

“You’re lucky you talked to ‘Ro first, kid,” Logan told him. “I wanted out of here for awhile.” 

Bobby must have looked surprised, because Logan shrugged. 

“I told you before, Snowboy, the kid’s a moron and deserves what’s coming to him, but that doesn’t mean I’m in favor of handing mutants over to the government,” Logan said. 

Bobby looked closely at Logan, wondering if he was making comparisons between Pyro and Logan himself. Both of them had killed people, lots of people. But Logan had never turned traitor. “Kitty said it’d be different if he actually regretted what he did.”

Logan snorted. “You can regret all you want, kid, it doesn’t mean anything if you keep doing the same shit over and over again.”

“And if we let him go, he would,” Bobby said. It came out as almost a question, thought he’d just meant for it to be a statement. 

Logan looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “No reason for him not to.” 

Bobby nodded. “I thought you were going to be out tonight?”

“I am,” Logan replied. “Leaving now. Had to talk with Marie, first.” 

Almost immediately, a lump appeared in Bobby’s throat. He tried to swallow it, failed, and settled for talking around it. “We broke up.” 

“I heard,” Logan said. “She said it was just time, that’s the reason you’ve still got all your limbs.” 

“It was. I wish it wasn’t, but I think it kinda was. It might have been past time, actually, but.” He paused, then admitted quietly, “I still love her.” Bobby didn’t know why he was telling Logan this. There was just something about Logan that, well, quite frankly, terrified the hell out of Bobby. But for some reason, he always found himself admitting things to Logan. 

Maybe that was why. Maybe he babbled to fill the silence and wound up confessing things. 

Logan was just looking at him like he had no idea what to say to that. And it was probably a bad idea to bring up the subject of love around him, anyway, considering what had happened on Alcatraz. For a moment, Bobby considered asking him how he’d done it, how he’d handled Doctor Grey being the enemy and how he’d been able to bring himself to kill her. But he didn’t, because he remembered Logan’s reaction last time he’d brought her up. And it wasn’t the same, anyway. Jean hadn’t been Jean, she’d been the Phoenix, and the real Jean would have wanted the Phoenix stopped more than anyone. And besides, what Logan felt for Jean was different than what was between Bobby and Johnny. 

“I hate this,” Bobby said, changing the subject. Or returning to what they’d been talking about before, whatever. He was still talking too much. “I hate feeling like we’re making the biggest mistake ever.”

Logan sighed. “Kid, if you’re lookin’ for someone to tell you that everything’s gonna be okay, it ain’t me.” 

“I’m not,” Bobby said defensively. “I’m not an idiot, I know that there’s no good choices here. I just think there’s a better one than this. I know we were fighting to keep Magneto from killing Jimmy, but weren’t we fighting to keep the Cure from being used against people against their will, too? The government’s not putting it in weapons anymore, but they’re using it as punishment?”

Logan shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. Like he wished he’d just left instead of stopping by, so he wouldn’t have to be having this conversation. “Times like these, sometimes you got to make decisions you wish you didn’t have to.”

“Like using it on Magneto,” Bobby said. “You know, if Magneto hadn’t gotten away on Alcatraz, the government probably wouldn’t care so much about putting Pyro on trial.” 

“No,” Logan agreed. “Probably not. Pyro’s just their consolation prize.” 

“Why don’t we stall, then? Work on finding Magneto?” Bobby asked. 

“You fucking stupid now, Iceman, or were you just not paying attention in the meetings? It’s pretty fucking difficult to find him without Cerebro. And, okay, say we find him. Then what? Dangle him in front of the government until they forget about Pyro and get caught up in punishing the head of the Brotherhood?” Logan asked. 

Bobby nodded. 

“And we just, what, let Pyro go? Send him out there to torch who the fuck knows how many other people?” Logan said.

Bobby hesitated. “He could stay here.”

Logan snorted. 

Bobby frowned. “I would’ve thought you’d believe in second chances.” 

“Idiot left before,” Logan replied. “You see anything that’s changed to lead you to believe he _wants_ to stay here? It doesn’t matter how many fucking chances you give people if they don’t change what made them screw up the one in the first place.”

“You changed,” Bobby said, then wondered if he’d gone a little too far. But it didn’t matter, and Bobby sat up a little straighter, tilting his chin to show that he wasn’t going to back down from his comment. 

Logan looked at him, then smirked a bit and shook his head. “Sometimes, kid, I don’t know. But maybe I found some things to change for. To stay for. Your buddy, he found some things to leave for.”

“Maybe there’s still some things that he could stay for,” Bobby protested, but even he could tell he didn’t really believe that. Johnny’d never liked the rules here, and he’d been gone too long, had too much fun without them to go back to them.

But Logan didn’t say that. Instead, he just looked Bobby over again, and shrugged. “Maybe. But if there were, it’s a little too late for him to find them.” 

“It doesn’t have to be. They could find him,” Bobby said. 

Logan stared at him once more, and Bobby wondered if they were having a second, unspoken conversation that he wasn’t really aware of. It kind of seemed like they were. Like Logan was reading things into his comments and responding, and maybe Bobby was supposed to be reading things into Logan’s comments, too. He tried to figure out what they could be, but then he got a vague notion that Logan knew he was planning on doing something and it just freaked him out a little. 

“You can keep on being delusional, bub, but it ain’t gonna do you much good in the end. Best thing you can do is say your good-byes and move on,” Logan told him. 

Bobby shrugged, resisting the urge to ask if that’s what he’d done on Alcatraz. 

There was another moment of silence, then Logan shook his head. “You’re gonna do whatever you’re gonna do, Iceman. I’m taking off.” 

Bobby gave him a nod, and got one in return, then Logan walked out. Bobby looked back at the video screen, then the monitor. Pyro was still lying there, like he was asleep, but the sensors said he was awake. Bobby resisted the urge to turn on the speaker and say something, and instead glanced over at the clock. It was just after midnight. He’d give it another couple of hours, and by then Logan should be pretty far gone, and everyone else asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_NOW_

Finals week came, and Bobby had time for nothing except studying, writing papers, and working. Then it was over, and he suddenly found himself with a lot of free time. He took extra shifts at Rendezvous because, well, work was _fun_. He liked his job, liked getting paid to do things he’d been trained to do (well, some of them, there was a notable lack of missiles, giant robots, and other mutants using their powers at the bar). The people there were great, he liked joking around with Shade and Cass, flirting with Zephyr, snarking with Ryn over stupid things like who’d tossed the most people out that night, and even when he didn’t have a shift with any of them, most of his co-workers were nice enough. He was even starting to learn how to make drinks. He still had guilt, though, and if anything, his contentment at work made it worse. He shouldn’t be okay with doing anything but being an X-man. 

He was starting to feel claustrophobic in his apartment, so when he wasn’t working, or playing hockey, or starting snowball fights, he’d taken to wandering. Which turned out to be a good thing, because when the free gym on campus closed for the holidays, Bobby had a nice path he could run every day. There were also the three flights of stairs in the apartment building that he’d started running up and down. He even started going through hand-to-hand combat exercises in his apartment, which was not quite the same when he was alone, but he remembered a lot of exercises that Scott and Logan had shown him. He didn’t need to train anymore, not really, but by then it was instinct. Habit, something he’d been doing since he got there, it was just increasing now that he found himself with no class or homework. 

The fact that it was Christmas time didn’t escape him, and sometimes he found himself wandering at the mall and in stores just out of habit. And when he spotted Guitar Hero with a glittery Hello Kitty guitar, he remembered Kitty’d been hinting that she wanted it and bought it before he realized what he was doing. It happened again in line at the grocery store, when he saw they were having a special on packets of seeds for plants that Bobby knew were rare and pretty jars to plant them in. Bobby’d only ever seen them online before, at prices too expensive for him, so he pounced on the chance to get them for Ororo. 

He’d always gotten his teachers presents, even before the Institute. It had been drilled into him by his parents, who supplied him with the money and called to make sure he was getting them something. In the beginning it’d been generic things, before he learned that Ororo liked plants, Jean was a sucker for Amaretto fudge, Scott always needed another tool or part for whatever he was working on, and while it may have been stereotypical, the Professor did indeed love books, of pretty much any kind. Even after his parents stopped calling to check, Bobby’d still gotten them things. But now the Professor and Scott and Jean were gone and there was only Ororo and he probably shouldn’t even be getting her anything. But he did, and after that it was only natural to buy Rogue and Pete and Jubes gifts, as well as some bags of candy for the younger students. At least he wasn’t delusional enough to buy Johnny a present, like he’d done the first Christmas after Johnny left. 

Bobby headed back to the apartment complex with the last of his purchases, including two rolls of cheap wrapping paper to wrap them in. He was surprising good at wrapping presents, although he always tended to use a whole lot of tape, more than you’d guess looking at his presents. Johnny used to get frustrated and threaten to just burn the paper, and eventually Kitty’d stopped trying to open them, she’d just phased her hand through and pulled out the present inside. 

When he stepped off the stairs onto his floor, he could hear a low murmur of voices, and just before he rounded the corner, he spotted Ryn and Riley out in front of her apartment. They were standing close together, close enough to touch, but Ryn had her hands shoved in her pockets and Riley’s thumbs were hooked through his beltloops. Ryn said something and Riley bit his lower lip, hiding a smile, and Bobby hesitated, not wanting to interrupt them.

He was reminded of Marie, with a fresh pang of longing, and he missed her desperately. There’d been so many times when they’d stood like that, close but not touching, after he realized that even touching through clothes made her uncomfortable and before he’d gotten the courage to show her that he could be careful, she could trust him. He’d settled for making her smile, making her laugh, first shy hidden ones and then actual smiles that still made his heart melt at the memory. 

Bobby’d moved a little bit closer while he was thinking, or maybe their voices had gotten louder, but he could hear them now. 

“I’ll make sure to keep her tank full and stuff. So, um. What time’s your flight tomorrow?” Ryn asked. 

“Eight-thirty. So I figured I’d leave here around six AM,” Riley replied.

Ryn nodded. “I could, like, drive you,” she offered, her tone deliberately casual. “If you wanted. Cheaper than renting a cab.”

Riley smiled at her. “I’d like that.”

Ryn shrugged carelessly, a gesture at odds with the way she was smiling back at him. “Yeah, well. You know I love any excuse to go driving.”

Riley grinned. “You going to actually be able to be awake at six AM?”

Ryn snorted and shoved him playfully. “Shut up. I’ll just stay awake all night and crash after you leave.”

“I think I’ll drive on the way to the airport,” Riley teased. 

“Just remember I’ll be driving your car all alone on the way back,” Ryn retorted. 

Riley must have been heading somewhere for Christmas. Home, maybe, though with the way no one ever really brought up anything in their past here Bobby had assumed none of them really had one. He’d learned to tell, back at the Institute, which kids had places to go back to and which ones had no where else to go, just by how often they talked about their old lives and what they brought up. Bobby’d always been one of the few with a place to go back to, and it still felt weird being on the other side of that. 

He wondered if this was a small bit of how Johnny’d felt, the first time that he cared that Bobby went home for Christmas. It was Bobby’s third time heading back during the winter holidays, but the first time Johnny hadn’t been there yet and the second time they’d just been roommates, not best friends. Johnny’d acted like he didn’t care, but the day before Bobby was leaving, Johnny hadn’t left his side. The morning of, Bobby was ready to say good-bye in their room, but Johnny’d offered to help him carry his bags to the car (because knowing Bobby, he’d trip and end up crushing himself under them) and he’d waited to watch the car leave, though when Bobby waved at him from the car, he’d refused to wave back. They made one lame, awkward phone call, then ended up talking every day on IM. Two weeks in, Johnny’d told him that he missed him (or maybe he actually said something like the room was too quiet without Bobby and his dumb jokes), but Bobby’d definitely said that he missed him, too. He decided that Johnny carrying his stuff was just a lame attempt at spending more time with him while making it seem like Johnny was doing him a favor. 

If he hadn’t been going on quite so many tangents lately, Bobby might have questioned that overhearing a snippet of a conversation between two people who were on the path to becoming a couple reminded him Johnny. But he didn’t think anything of it, because lately everything reminded him of Johnny, of the Institute; he had a bag full of presents that might never be given to prove that. 

And he realized that he had no idea what Riley and Ryn were talking about anymore and it was probably time for him to stop standing in the hall. So he started forward, greeting Riley and Ryn as he walked by, and they separated slightly as they returned the greeting. Riley mentioned that he’d be leaving tomorrow and wished him a happy holiday, and Bobby said the same to him and told him to have a safe trip before moving on to his apartment. 

A few days later, hanging out in the rec room, Ryn mentioned that she was planning on taking advantage of having Riley’s Jeep and heading to New York City. 

Bobby perked up at that and asked, “For how long?” 

Ryn shrugged. “Probably won’t actually be in the city for more than an hour. I just have a quick errand to run.” 

“You mind if I tag along?” West asked. “A friend of mine has something for me. He was gonna mail it, but if you’re heading out there…”

Ryn nodded. “Sure. Anyone else want to come?” 

“I would,” Bobby said before he could change his mind. “I’ve got something to drop off.” He couldn’t mail the packages from here, even if he didn’t put a return address on it, the post office would stamp them. And he wasn’t going to go near the Institute, but he could drop off the packages at the post office in the city, or scatter them in mailboxes.

“Count me in,” Cass said. “I don’t have anything to do, but I’m always up for a road trip.”

Shade, Zephyr, and Dani were working and Sam had gone home for Christmas, so Sunday morning it was the four of them driving down to New York City. The radio was on a country music station and Ryn sang along until Cass informed her that if she had to listen to another song about someone’s woman taking off with his truck and his dog dying, she was going to jump out of the car. West added that he’d do one better and throw Ryn out of the car, but Ryn just grinned and let the current song finished before changing the station. When they got to the city, they agreed to meet by a small café in an hour, and Ryn dropped them all off in front of it. West and Cass went off to go see West’s friend, while Bobby headed to the post office. 

~*~

_NOW - CASS_

Ryn had pretty obviously wanted to be alone when she dropped them off and there was something about being in the City that seemed to unsettle Bobby, so after Ryn drove off, Cass went along with West. He walked only a few steps before pausing to stretch, almost cat-like, and Cass took the opportunity to enjoy the view. West may have been one of her best friends, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be aware of the fact that he was really attractive. 

“So do I get to know where we’re going?” Cass asked when he was done. 

He grinned at her. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“When it leads to presents for me, you bet,” she replied. “Surprises in the City tend to be not as good.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the bad surprises,” he told her.

She rolled her eyes. “I think you have that backwards.” 

“You want me to protect you from the good surprises?” he asked.

She shoved him playfully. “Jerk.”

“Yup,” he agreed cheerfully. “But you’re the one hanging out with me. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m the best person in the world for hanging out with you when no one else will?” she suggested. “Or that I’m a masochist. Possibly a little of both.”

“Masochist. Definitely,” West told her. “We’re going left up here. Stay close to me, okay?” 

She glanced over at him, trying to read from his expression if he was serious or just being a jerk again. He looked serious. Great. Why had she gone with him again? She should have followed Bobby instead. Of course, with the way Bobby’d seemed so nervous, he might have actually had drugs or something in the packages he’d been carrying. Scratch that, she should’ve refused to get out of the car. “So. _Where_ are we going?” 

“Just to see a friend,” West said. 

“Uh-huh,” Cass replied. “And how do you know this friend?”

“Went to school together,” he said, glancing briefly at her before turning to look back at the street. “I grew up in the City.”

“Oh.” Until then, it hadn’t occurred to Cass that she had no idea where West was from. No one really talked about things like that. Which was definitely very okay with her. Still. “I grew up in Alaska.”

“Yeah?” he asked, smiling at her a bit. “Is there really snow there all the time?”

“Not where I lived,” she replied. “There was actually a lot of sun. Different hours than here, though, sometimes it didn’t set until eleven at night or so. Still really cold, though.”

“Huh,” West said. There was a moment of silence, then he grinned. “Guess that explains why I still kick your ass in hockey.”

Cass grinned back before rolling her eyes. “Trust you to make everything about hockey.” 

“What else is there?” West teased, then took her hand and tugged her into an alleyway. 

In the back right corner there was a flight of stairs leading down to a sturdy wooden door. West kept his hold on her hand as they walked down the stairs, then used his free hand to give a rhythmic knock on the door. Despite herself, Cass felt kind of nervous. Her grip on West’s hand must have tightened a bit, because West gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She glanced over at him again. He wasn’t looking at her, but she felt warmer where her skin was touching his, and she turned her gaze back to the door. 

Footsteps walked to the door, then a male voice called, “Yeah?”

“Yo, Pick, it’s West,” West said. “Open up or I’ll kick it in.”

There was the sound of chains being fumbled with, then the door opened to reveal a skinny, nervous-looking guy with a purple Mohawk and covered in tattoos and piercings. “Hey, West, long time no see.”

He held up a fist and West bumped his knuckles against the other man’s, then headed into the room. Cass followed him and the guy closed the door behind them.

“This is Cass,” West introduced. “Cass, this is Pick.”

Pick nodded. “Any friend of West’s is a friend of mine. I know what you’re here for, right?” he asked West before Cass could say anything.

West nodded. “Why else would I drag my ass back here?”

Pick cracked a nervous grin. “Everyone drags their asses here, you’re the only one I risk shipping shit to.”

“And you know I’m eternally grateful,” West told him. “Thought I’d spare you the risk this time.”

Pick grinned again, clicking his tongue piercing against his teeth. “I’ll go get it. I’m the only one here, if you want to see your old room.” He disappeared into another room. 

“You used to live here?” Cass asked. 

“Yeah,” West said. “For a year or two. Before I moved to Canton.” 

“You don’t want to see your old room?” she asked. 

He shook his head, remained silent for a few moments, then said, “I saw enough of it while I was here.”

“Oh,” Cass said. She considered, then added, “Yeah. I know how that is.” 

West was still holding her hand, so she gave his a squeeze, and he squeezed her hand back. They waited a few more minutes in mostly comfortable silence, although West seemed a little on edge just being in the place. Soon enough, though, Pick came back into the room holding a brown paper bag. 

“Got it,” Pick said with a wide grin. “This for you or someone else?”

“Me,” West replied. “No one else is getting their hands on this.” 

Pick nodded like he’d been expecting that answer and handed the bag over with hands that shook slightly. 

“Thanks, Pick,” West said, letting go of Cass’s hand to hold the bag close.

“No problem,” Pick replied. “You say hi to Shade for me, yes? Or is he not gonna know you were back here?”

“Nah, he knows I was stopping by. Just to see you, no one else,” West told him. 

“The way it always is since you left,” Pick said. His eyes flickered towards the door. 

“Good talking to you, Pick.” West started towards the door and Cass followed him. 

“Always a pleasure, West. You come by again, Cass,” Pick said as he waited for them to leave, then closed the door behind them.

West shook his head. “He hasn’t changed.”

They started walking back to the café, and Cass toyed with one of her rings. She was generally pretty open minded about things, she’d gotten high with some of the others too much not to be, but this didn’t seem quite right. Marijuana was one thing, whatever this was was different. “Look, I don’t know what. I, um, if you…” 

She trailed off as West cracked open the bag to show her the comic book inside. 

“A Commander comic book?” she asked. And now she felt slightly guilty.

He nodded. “One of the rarest ones there is. Pick’s my source for all things comic-wise.”

Cass grinned a bit. “That’s so cool. I always liked the Commander. Clairvoyant and Jetstream were my favorites, though.” 

West’s eyes lit up a bit. “I _knew_ I liked you.”

~*~

_NOW - BOBBY_

Bobby was freaked out about being in the city and did his best not to draw attention to himself. Several times he decided this whole thing was a really stupid idea and he shouldn’t go through with it, but finally he dropped the packages in the next little blue mailbox he saw and quickly walked back to the café. He still had about forty minutes left, so he wandered in and out of the small shops around the café, doing his best to look casual, just another person doing some last minute Christmas shopping. 

In one of the shops, he was scanning the small book section when he spotted a book with a black spine that had a blue flame darting across it. He pulled the book out, and discovered that it was a blank, lined notebook, bound in soft, supple leather that just begged to be petted. Orange, red, and pale blue flames licked across the front and back of the book. They looked so life-like that Bobby ended up just staring at them, and somehow he found himself walking over to the woman behind the counter and buying it. 

After he left the shop, he had about fifteen minutes left, so he bought a cup of coffee in the café and attempted to hide in one of the booths. He glanced down at the plastic bag in his hand and sighed. Now he really did have a gift that was never going to be given. So much for not being too delusional.

Ryn showed up soon after that and he gratefully went out to meet her, sliding quickly into the passenger seat and closing the door behind him. If he looked nervous, she didn’t comment on it, and he returned the favor by not asking why her left hand was bandaged. Five more minutes passed and Cass and West appeared, the later clutching a slightly crumbled brown paper bag. They climbed into the car and Ryn took off.

Bobby lasted a little over three hours before his curiousity overtook him and he asked West what was in the bag. West grinned and reverently pulled out a comic book.

Bobby’s eyes widened. “Dude! Is that The Commander number thirty-four?”

“First appearance of Sonic Boom,” West agreed, his grin growing. 

“Man, I’ve always wanted that one. How’d you find it?” Bobby asked.

“I have my sources,” West replied. “And? There’s even been some hints that I might be close to getting number eighty-two, the-”

“First appearance of Ferinus,” Bobby finished. “I have that one.” 

West’s eyes lit up a bit. “Seriously? You have to show it to me. Ferinus was _hot_ , man.”

“I was so in love with her when I was a teenager,” Bobby admitted. “You know she has her own series, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve got about half of it,” West said. 

“Two-thirds or so,” Bobby told him. “Haven’t been able to find any lately.”

“I have them all,” Ryn spoke up. “Plus twelve of the annuals.”

“How’d you get the early ones?” West asked. 

Ryn shrugged. “She was my hero growing up. Fortunately, she was my aunt’s, too.”

“Yeah, well, Clairvoyant could totally kick her ass,” Cass said. 

West snorted. “Post-cognition man? What’s he gonna do, tell her where she’s been?”

“Yeah, he’ll tell her where she’s been, on the receiving of an ass-kicking. One bullet and she’s dead,” Cass replied. 

Bobby considered. “I dunno, is Concussion working with her?” 

They spent pretty much all of the rest of the way home discussing comic books, exchanging ideas and opinions, arguing about who could beat who. It was almost like being back at the Institute, talking to Johnny or occasionally Kitty or Pete or some of the younger students. Except this time, the discussion stuck to comic book characters, instead of eventually becoming a mix of the comic book superheroes and the X-men, or even sometimes including the people having the discussions themselves. Bobby had to keep himself a couple of times from mentioning that Storm could easily trump so and so, or even Bobby himself could wipe this guy out. He missed getting to say things like that. 

A few days before Christmas, Bobby was watching a movie in the rec room with the others. But his mind was back at the Institute, wondering if Kitty had stayed or gone home that year, if she’d decorated for Chanukah while Jubilee decorated for Christmas, if they’d managed to suck Pete and Marie into helping this year, how Marie was doing, if they’d gotten Bobby’s presents. He didn’t even realize the silence as they watched the movie was slightly uncomfortable until Shade cleared his throat. 

“I’m working on the twenty-fifth,” he said. “They bribed me with free alcohol of the really good kind, so if anyone wants to get together and have drinks, I get off at five.”

There was a pause, then Ryn said, “I, um. I’m making turkey, and there’s no way I’ll be able to eat it all, so. It’ll be done at seven. If anyone wants me to bring it down here.”

“I can have the drinks here by seven,” Shade said. 

“We can, like, exchange gifts then. Since we’ll be there. For whoever’s there. Or we can do it later,” Zephyr said. 

“No, that sounds good to me,” Cass said.

For the first time, Bobby wondered how long they’d been living here, how long they’d been friends. He’d sort of assumed it’d been like the Institute, that they’d known each other for years, another group of outcasts banding together, just older, harder, less super-powered. But from their hesitancy, the forced casual way they agreed to meet at seven on the twenty-fifth, he wondered if this was their first Christmas spent here as friends, maybe even the first one away from home. And he was curious. But he didn’t ask, because he didn’t want to answer any return questions about himself, and he’d learned from Johnny that sometimes questions about people’s past were unwelcome and met with hostility. 

Bobby realized that he hadn’t thought about how Christmas worked here, he’d been too busy remembering Christmas at his parents and at the Institute, and it hadn’t occurred to him to get anyone here presents. It was too late to go shopping now, but he had a secret weapon, something that both came naturally and that he’d worked to be good at. Christmas Eve he made them all ice sculptures, taking care to make every detail perfect, each one tailored to something he knew the person it was for would like. It didn’t cost him anything, except some energy, most of the moisture in the air in his apartment, and some water from the tap. But it was the thought that counted, and anyway, he didn’t have any money after buying the gifts he’d sent. 

The next day he put the sculptures in the jars that he’d wanted to send to Ororo, but couldn’t package them properly and didn’t want to risk them breaking, and kept them frozen on the way down to the rec room. He passed them out immediately so no one would wonder why they hadn’t started melting. 

“Oh my God, Bobby, did you make these?” Zephyr asked, staring intently at hers. 

“Yeah,” Bobby replied, trying to act like it was no big deal but grinning kind of proudly. 

“They’re gorgeous,” Dani told him. 

“Dude, they’re _awesome_ ,” West said. “How the hell did you manage this?”

“I’ve been doing it since I was twelve,” Bobby said, which was more or less true. 

After a few more exclamations, they went to go put the sculptures in freezers so they’d be preserved, and it felt weird that he couldn’t just offer to keep them cold. But dinner was good, Ryn had made deep-fried turkey, which sounded weird but tasted great, and it didn’t feel quite as strange as he thought it would. He’d only had two Christmases at the Institute, not enough to get used to them, especially because for both, he’d been too busy thinking about his family and mourning the loss of Christmas there. Later, after he returned to his apartment with the CDs and comic books and other various things he’d gotten, he thought at least he wasn’t alone. 

And that made him think of Johnny, where he was, what he was doing, what Bobby was going to do with the notebook in his room. He wondered if he hoped more that Johnny wasn’t alone or that he wasn’t with the new version of the Brotherhood, and didn’t decide on anything except that he really wished Johnny was there with him. 

~*~

_THEN_

Johnny was sleeping again when Bobby pulled open the door to the room he was being kept in. Johnny, it had to be Johnny, because Pyro wasn’t worth what Bobby was doing. He flicked on the light and Johnny stirred slightly, then jerked into a sitting position when Bobby threw a pair of sneakers at him. 

“…the hell, Drake?” Johnny mumbled. 

“Shut up and get moving,” Bobby hissed, pleased that his voice came out confident and commanding instead of panicky and uncertain.

“Fuck no,” Johnny replied, sleep clearing rapidly from his voice. 

“You want to be handed over the government to be Cured and put on trial?” Bobby asked. 

Johnny stilled, a look of terror crossing his face briefly before his expression became unreadable. Bobby realized right then that no one had told Johnny what was going to happen to him. He wondered if they’d been planning on telling him at all. 

“They pick you to do this or did you volunteer?” Johnny asked. 

Bobby rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to yell at him. He didn’t have time for this. “Yeah, I’m taking you out to give you to the government by myself at four thirty in the morning. Just fucking move, Johnny, or I’ll leave your ass here.” 

Johnny didn’t say anything, but he rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, then shoved his feet into the shoes Bobby’d brought. He eyed Bobby warily as he walked over to him, and Bobby shoved a worn gray hoodie into his hands. 

“Stay close and don’t say anything,” Bobby told him, starting out of the room. 

Johnny walked at his side, quiet and tense, and Bobby went back and forth between tunnel-visioning on the corridor ahead of them, like if he just kept looking straight ahead they’d make it out, and scanning every corner, every dip in the wall, every place that no one could really hide but Bobby’s paranoid mind saw people there, anyway. He didn’t know what he was doing, he had know idea what the hell he was doing, and for a moment he was ready to turn to Johnny, to tell him that they had to go back. To knock Johnny’s ass out, lock him up again, and just go on the vacation he’d told Storm was going on. 

He’d never have to see Johnny again, never have to face the betrayal in his eyes. And even if he did, so fucking what? After everything Johnny’d done, Bobby owed him a few betrayals. Maybe if he dragged Johnny back to his cell now, they’d be even. Johnny’d left them, Johnny’d turned traitor, Johnny’d try to kill him, Johnny would have if Bobby wasn’t stronger, more powerful. Bobby’d already saved his ass once. Twice, if he wanted to count not killing him when he won their fight along with dragging him off the island. Bobby didn’t, though, because that wasn’t saving him, that was just not being him.

So this made two. Except it didn’t, because he was turning them around. He’d given Johnny false hope, now he could just take him back and go somewhere else and have fun while the government took his powers and then killed him. Whether he got life in prison or the death penalty or whatever, he’d effectively be dead. The trial thing was a joke, the best lawyer and all the character witnesses in the world wouldn’t do anything to change the fact that Pyro was a terrorist. 

And he wouldn’t even have all the character witnesses in the world. Bobby wasn’t even sure he’d go on the stand for him. He’d risk his life helping him escape, throw away everything he had in the only home he had left so Johnny wouldn’t fall into the government’s hands, but he wouldn’t stand up in court and say that Johnny wasn’t Pyro, that Pyro wasn’t really all that bad, that he’d been misguided and didn’t know what he was doing. Johnny fucking knew what he was doing. Bobby was the one who was clueless. 

The clueless leading the psychotic. And these were the things that Bobby should have thought over before hand, because he gave a short, bitter laugh and Johnny stared over at him like maybe he’d thought Bobby might know what he was doing but now had doubts. 

Bobby sobered, schooling his expression into nothing, and ducked out of the secret passage and into the grounds at the back of the mansion. Johnny started looking around the grounds, but Bobby’d parked his car outside of the mansion’s gates and finally Johnny’s eyes rested on him. 

“You got a next step in this plan of yours or we just gonna run like hell?” Johnny asked.

“Thought I told you not to say anything,” Bobby replied, resisting the urge to run and instead walking quickly towards the fence surrounding the mansion. 

Johnny looked around again, and briefly Bobby worried that he was just going to take off. But then Johnny was moving after him, and Bobby picked up the pace he hadn’t realized he slowed. 

“Why are you doing this?” Johnny asked, the question carefully devoid of any form of emotion. 

“Because I’m not you,” Bobby replied. He’d just said it because it was true, but he thought he saw Johnny flinch. Maybe. It was dark, and he wasn’t sure, and Johnny didn’t say anything after that. 

But it was true. It’d always been true, and there were times when Bobby hated that. When they were younger, there’d been times when Bobby wanted to be Johnny. Johnny was cool, Johnny always knew what to say, what to do, he always seemed like he was in control of the situation. The first time Bobby realized that Johnny could be just as lost and confused as he was, Bobby felt triumphant, pleased. Because it meant Johnny was like him, at least in something, and because it meant that Johnny trusted him, or was used to his presence enough, to admit that he did in fact have emotions and concerns beyond sarcasm and fire. 

And yeah, Bobby realized that he was a girl sometimes, and no, he’d never mentioned that to Johnny. 

And it didn’t matter, anyway, because now Bobby was glad he wasn’t Johnny and he was having doubts as to how like him Johnny really was. 

And then it really didn’t matter, because the lights in the mansion went on and the alarms they’d had installed after Styker’s attack started going off and all Bobby could think was _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_.

“I think they might have noticed I’m gone,” Johnny commented. “So whatever you’re planning on doing? Might want to do it now.” 

“My car’s parked out a ways behind the fence,” Bobby told him. “We’re going there.” 

It was probably time to start running now. Bobby raced towards the fence, moving quickly through the trees he’d been training amongst for awhile now. Johnny was slower, but not as much as Bobby thought he’d be, and Bobby wondered if he’d been training around trees, too. There was the fence, and Bobby iced stairs against it as they ran, then formed stairs down on the other side while they were going up the first ones. That, at least, he’d known how to do before Johnny even left. 

They were halfway down the stairs when thick fog sprang up, and Bobby suddenly couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of his face. 

“Shit,” Bobby muttered. “Johnny?” 

“Here,” Johnny said from behind him. 

Bobby turned, reaching for him, and ended up smacking his arm into Johnny’s chest. Johnny cursed, but Bobby didn’t apologize and instead just fisted his hand in Johnny’s sweatshirt and pulled him the rest of the way down the stairs. 

“I can fucking walk, Iceman,” Johnny bitched. 

“You don’t know where the car is,” Bobby replied. 

“Yeah, and in this, neither do you,” Johnny retorted. 

Bobby shoved his free hand into the pocket of his own sweatshirt and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on. It wasn’t much, but the area was familiar, and he could figure out where he was. 

“How the hell are we gonna drive in this?” Johnny asked as they started walking again. 

“Carefully,” Bobby told him, and he thought he might have heard Johnny snort in amusement. 

Lightning snapped nearby and Bobby jumped a bit, only slightly consoled by the fact that Johnny started as well. 

“Fuck,” Johnny said. “They’ve got Wolverine tracking us, you know.” 

“When we get to the car, it won’t be a problem,” Bobby said, but he started walking as fast as he could without tripping over things he couldn’t see. 

Lightning struck once more, hitting a tree just in front of them. Both boys jumped again, and this time Bobby’d been on the edge of a drop and the ground gave way beneath his feet. His fingers tightened in Johnny’s shirt as he started falling, and he felt Johnny’s hands close around his arm as Johnny tried to pull him back up. It picked that moment to start raining, hard, and Johnny’s grip on him slipped and he went down. 

It wasn’t as far of a fall as he’d feared, and he managed to stand up at the bottom of the hill banged up but okay, and still holding on to the flashlight. 

He dimly heard Johnny calling his name, and he replied, “I’m okay!” before realizing that yelling was probably a bad idea. 

Johnny must have realized it, too, because he didn’t get a reply. Bobby started climbing back up, which proved extremely difficult in the fog and rain. By the time he managed to get back to the top, Johnny was no where in sight. Bobby waited, then risked yelling for him, but got nothing. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. By now, Logan had to be back at the mansion and tracking them. The rain would slow him down, but not much. Bobby started moving again, and eventually found his car. But no Johnny. It was a long shot, but Bobby’d been hoping that Johnny would somehow manage to find the car by himself. Bobby waited again, he wasn’t sure how long, until paranoia overtook him and he had to keep moving. He got in the car and took off, driving slowly because of the weather and because he was still looking for Johnny. 

Bobby didn’t really expect to find him, though. Johnny was resourceful, and Bobby knew he’d taken off by himself. He’d probably caught some sparks when Storm’s lightning bolt had hit the tree, and Johnny was smart enough to keep the rain from putting his fire, even if that was probably why Storm had started it. 

And it was better this way. It was better that they just go their separate ways. Bobby hadn’t known what they were going to do once they got out of town, anyway. He out drove the rain and fog, and knew that he wasn’t going to find Johnny. Bobby was surprised Johnny’d followed him that long. It was probably only because he knew Bobby had a car, and it’d be faster getting out with a car. Bobby’d thought he might take off at the first opportunity, that was why he’d put what would be his cell number in the pocket of the hoodie he’d given Johnny. 

And no matter how much he told himself he’d known, he’d prepared, Johnny was still gone. Again. And this time, this time Bobby had no one left.


	7. Chapter 7

_NOW_

January thirteenth. Bobby was twenty-one. It wasn’t quite as big of a deal as it would have been back at the Institute, because Bobby’d been working in a bar for awhile now, but he still wanted to go out drinking on his birthday. So he headed down to the rec room, but when he got there, Zephyr was the only one in there.

“Hey handsome,” she greeted with a grin. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he replied, flashing her a smile. “Where is everyone?”

“Dunno. I just got off work,” she said. “Shade’s working, but no clue where anyone else is.”

Damn. He’d been hoping to recruit people. “Do you want to go out and get some drinks?” 

She blinked at him, then smiled. “Sure. Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a bar called Silko’s that looked good, and it’s within walking distance,” he replied. It’d seemed like it was a higher-class bar, so it was a few neighborhoods over, but it was still pretty close. 

“Sounds perfect,” she said. “Just let me run upstairs and get pretty real quick.”

Bobby grinned at her. “You know, saying stuff like that just makes me want to be cheesy and tell you something like if you get any prettier, you’ll be fending guys off all night,” he teased.

Zephyr laughed. “Who says I want to fend them off?”

She headed upstairs and was back in about ten minutes. They walked down to the bar, chatting cheerfully, then waited behind a line of a few people to show the bouncer their ID’s. 

When it was Bobby’s turn, the bouncer took his ID, swept his gaze over it, then handed it back with an added, “Happy birthday.”

Zephyr blinked at him. “It’s your birthday?” 

“Um. Yeah,” Bobby replied.

She swatted him on the shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell us? We would have thrown you a party or something!” 

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it?”

But a big deal was made, because once they sat down and ordered drinks, Zephyr apparently texted everyone to let them know that it was his birthday, and there was an emergency party planned at Silko’s. It wasn’t long before the whole rec room group began to trickle in, joining Zephyr and him at the bar. They also all insisted on buying Bobby drinks, lots of them, and as the night wore on and they moved from bars to clubs, he found himself very, very drunk. A couple of people went out on the dance floor and tried to drag him out, but Bobby begged off and escaped out the front door for some fresh air. 

It wasn’t like Bobby didn’t normally think stupid ideas were good ones, but when he was drunk, it just got worse, and eventually he had the bright idea that he should call Johnny. So he pulled out his cellphone and dialed Johnny’s number, the old one, the one that Bobby’d called hundreds of times and Johnny’d never answered. Bobby had no idea if he even _had_ the phone anymore, but he called it anyway. 

Johnny must’ve kept paying for it, or had the calls forwarded, or something, because when Bobby dialed and let it ring, he got the same old voice message he’d always gotten, the one that’d been there for over two years. It sounded just like the old Johnny, because it was the old Johnny, mocking at him from the other side of the phone. Bobby frowned at nothing until he heard the beep. 

“Three years is a long time to have the same voice message, even for you, Johnny,” he said. “Never answer your phone. Don’t even know why I bother calling. But hell, it’s my birthday, can do whatever I want to do.” He laughed. “And that meant getting a whole lot of free drinks. Everyone’s wicked eager to get you bazo on your twenty-first.” He must have been really drunk, because he was slipping back into his old Boston accent without even thinking about it. 

Bobby shifted his grip on his phone and continued conversationally, “So I discovered that places that have names that start with A are bad. Because, like, Alaki Lake and Alcatraz both start with A and those are the places where I had the worst days of my life. Lost the same people on both places, too.” He paused. “No, wait. Only lost you the first time, I got you back on Alcatraz. Except I didn’t, did I? Not really. Only thought I did, but thinking it was enough to lose you again. Where the fuck are you? Do you have any idea what I gave up for you? No, you know, you have every idea, you just don’t care enough not to ditch me during your own rescue. 

“Hope you’re happy. I hope you’re fucking happy, Johnny, because I,” his voice got soft, even softer in contrast with the shouting that the rest of that had become, “I have no idea what to do.” He sounded lost, alone and confused, even to himself, and he hated it. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Ugh, and that was even _worse_. Irritated, and drunk enough not to care about what kind of ending that was, Bobby hung up. It wasn’t like Johnny would ever get the message, anyway.

For a long moment, he stared at the phone in his hand. Then he glanced back up, looking in through the windows of the club. He caught sight of Cass and West dirty dancing, and Sam laughing at something. They looked like they were having fun, and for a moment Bobby wanted nothing more than just to join them, be drunk and crazy and forget about everything. But his phonecall to Johnny had opened things back up, and he just couldn’t. So he texted everyone to let them know he was heading home, and then tried to remember the number for a taxi service. 

Before he could, Dani emerged from the club and headed over to him. She looked completely sober, and he vaguely remembered something about her being the designated driver. 

“Come on, Bobby, I’ll take you home,” she told him.

He shook his head. “Can’t. Don’t have one anymore.” Then he paused. He hadn’t meant to say that. “I, um. Don’t want you to miss out on the fun,” he said lamely. 

She smiled at him, brown eyes filled with understanding as she slid over his first comment as though he hadn’t even said it. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just gonna drive you back and make sure you get in your apartment okay, then I’m headed back here. Can’t leave Riley with alone with the rest of the drunkards, after all.” 

He nodded, grateful, and slipped his cell back into his pocket. “Thanks, Dani.” 

~*~

_NOW_

Two weeks after his birthday, and it was cold, but it’d stopped snowing, and Bobby had his windows open. It wasn’t like the cold bothered him, after all, and he’d been locked up in his room for the past two hours trying to write this stupid paper. He’d needed the fresh air. He was taking a break, thinking about walking to the store and picking up ice cream or something, when the smell of cigarette smoke drifted in through his window. He crossed over to it and looked down, and saw a figure leaning against the wall of the building, face obscured by a hoodie, and the dim glow of a cigarette. 

Later, he’d realize his thought process had been stupid. It’d been over six months since he’d last seen Johnny, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know that other people smoked. But for so long, cigarette smoke had meant Johnny, and Bobby was heading out of his apartment and down the stairs before he could think things through. He walked outside, moving towards the smoker. Jeans, brown leather jacket over the hoodie, right height…Wrong gender. He faltered as he got close enough for the smoker to realize he was there, and turn towards him. 

Ryn’s green eyes looked guiltily at him, glowing slightly in the light of the cigarette. “Can you smell the smoke from your room?”

“Yeah,” he replied, trying to cover disappointment and feeling stupid. 

“Sorry,” she told him. “Want me to move?”

“It’s okay,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “My best friend used to smoke.” Probably still did, actually, but somehow it seemed appropriate to use past tense when talking about Johnny. 

“Oh.” She fell silent for a moment, then offered him the open end of a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?” 

“Sure,” he said. “Thanks.” He was pulling one out of the box when his brain caught up with him and informed him that was probably a pretty stupid decision. It was really moving slowly tonight. He blamed his paper. 

Bobby took the lighter she held out to him and held the cigarette between his lips as he lit it, then gave it back to her before taking a drag. 

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Your friend the only one who smoked?” 

He shrugged, both sheepish and vaguely pleased that he was still able to smoke without coughing up a lung. Johnny’d…well. He didn’t really know what Johnny’d think, not the Johnny who was off somewhere doing who the hell knew what. But the old Johnny, the one Bobby knew, he’d’ve been pleased. Smug. “He shared cigarettes with me a few times.” It’d been more like Johnny pushed cigarettes on him and teased him about always being the good boy until Bobby’d gave in and smoked with him occasionally to shut him up, but whatever. 

She grinned a bit. “So he was the corrupter.”

Bobby stared at her. “Huh?

“That’s the way it works with best friends,” she replied, flicking ash off the tip of her cigarette. “One of them is more innocent than the other and the other one’s the corrupter. Until they’re both equally corrupted, and then they end up in jail together or something.” Her grin widened. “You know that expression, a good friend will come bail you out of jail, a best friend will be sitting right there next to you going, ‘dude, that was fucking awesome.’” 

He smiled, amused. “I was never really all that innocent,” he told her, despite the fact that he knew he pretty much was. 

“Guess he didn’t have much work to do, then,” she replied, tilting her head away slightly to blow out smoke. 

“So which were you, corrupter or corruptee?” he asked. 

“Corrupter,” she said, winking at him. “I was bad from the day I was born.” 

He grinned. He hadn’t really been expecting a serious answer, everyone in the group seemed pretty guarded with their pasts. It was different than what he was used to, but he liked it. He meant he didn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions or volunteer any information. 

They fell silent, and he glanced down at her hand and noticed that she was still holding the lighter. Bobby stared at it as he breathed in smoke, from his cigarette and the fainter scent of secondhand smoke, and he expected to hear the familiar _click woosh snap_ sound that always came from lighters in hand. He waited for it, almost anxiously, and only when it didn’t come did he manage to jerk himself back into reality.

For a brief moment, he was ready to ask her to play with the lighter. Just for a little bit, just so he could hear it and see the flame and bring back something that had once been normal, first annoying and then comforting. But he didn’t, because he realized how lame and maybe even a little crazy that sounded almost as soon as he thought of it. Part of him knew that he was thinking about Johnny way too much. He tried to reassure himself that it was only natural, that he’d think constantly about the person who’d caused his current situation, the person he’d given up everything for and wasn’t around. But the more he told himself that, the more it sounded like an excuse, and the less he believed it. 

He missed Johnny even more this time around, maybe because he didn’t have the Institute and other old friends to fall back on when Johnny’d left. Maybe because for a few brief days, Bobby’d actually thought that he and Johnny were going to be back together again. Not quite best friends the way they used to be, but together anyway, the two of them on the run. Or maybe Bobby’d just waited too long to start talking to people again, spent too long being alone, and had gone a little crazy. Maybe it was a little of both.

Ryn didn’t seem to notice that his silence was the silence of someone contemplating whether or not they were crazy, so Bobby figured there was at least that. He finished the rest of the cigarette and gave her a smile in gratitude, then turned to head back to his paper. As much as he’d been frustrated by it before, right then, he’d gladly work on it if it’d take his mind off of Johnny. 

~*~

_THEN_

He drove to New Jersey and ditched the car, leaving his current cell phone on the front seat. Before, when he’d thought Johnny might have been with him, he’d been planning on just driving. West, as far away as he could get, maybe all the way to California. But no, he realized keeping the car would be a bad idea, make him easier to find, so he gathered his things and got on a train. 

He had a new plan now, leapfrog around, move back and forth in a combination of trains and buses. Bobby decided on a set amount of money he could spend in total traveling, then divided it up for a maximum he could spend in each place. Then he bought a ticked to the furthest place he could get in the current direction he wanted with the amount of money he had to spend. He slept in train and bus stations while he could and once in a run-down motel when a bus ticket for the furthest place he could get at that bus station cost less than the amount he’d allotted himself for the trip. 

It was over a week before he used the last of his allowed money to buy a bus ticket. Bobby ended up in Canton, New York, nearly eight hours away from Westchester. That marked the end of his travel plan, so he had to come up with a new one. Move from plan to plan, that would keep him focused, stop him from just dwelling on what he’d done. A place to stay. He needed a place to stay, so he started looking through the Classifieds. There were a couple that looked promising, so he picked the cheapest and checked it out. 

And then quickly moved on to the next cheapest, calling the number in the ad. He spoke to a woman named Tessa, who agreed to meet him in an hour, then he headed out there. 

The building was three stories high, run down, but in _way_ better condition than the first place he’d looked at, as well as in better shape than most of the other buildings in the neighborhood. It was the kind of neighborhood that made him slightly nervous, and glad he’d rented a locker at the bus station to stow his bags. The front door was locked, so Bobby pushed a button next to it. 

“Yes?” a female voice asked. 

“I, uh. I’m Bobby Drake,” he said. “I spoke with Tessa about an apartment?”

“Oh, right, hold on.” There was a minute of silence, then the door opened to reveal a woman who looked to be in her mid to late thirties, with long, wavy, vibrant green hair and wary green eyes. She looked him over, then held the door open for him. “Come on back.”

He followed her to a door next to the stairs, then into an office where another woman was waiting. 

“Have a seat,” the green haired woman said, gestured to a chair in front of the desk before she sat next to the other woman. “I’m Lorna Dane, and this is Tessa Sage.”

There was a pause, and Bobby offered, “Bobby Drake,” even though he’d already introduced himself, because it seemed like they were waiting for him to say something. Or maybe not, because the silence stretched on for another few moments. Tessa was looking at him like she could see through him, and Bobby shifted his weight. It was eerily similar to the look of a telepath and Bobby instinctively strengthened the mental shields that Dr. Grey and Professor Xavier had worked with him on. It was a bit of a ridiculous gesture, he knew, but that didn’t stop him from shielding, focusing on just the thoughts he wouldn’t mind being picked up. 

“So,” Tessa said after a minute. “You’re looking for a one-bedroom?”

Bobby nodded.

“When did you want to move in?” she asked. 

“As soon as possible,” he replied. “I just got into town.”

Tessa nodded. “Let’s get you an application.”

“I, um. Don’t have any references,” Bobby admitted, then figured he probably should’ve kept his mouth shut.

Lorna and Tessa exchanged amused glances. 

“Few people here do, but you’re one of the only ones to actually tell us that,” Lorna told him. “You have money for a deposit and first month’s rent?”

Bobby nodded, and within an hour, had an apartment. It came with furniture, but Bobby didn’t trust the mattress, so he reluctantly decided to use some of his money to buy a new one. And maybe new cushions for the couch. Until then, he had blankets and a pillow, he could just sleep on the floor. 

He had so little stuff that it took almost no time at all to get unpacked, and then he found himself sitting in a strange apartment in an unfamiliar town with no idea what he was doing. The enormity of what he’d done, of everything he’d left behind, hit him hard. He tried to ignore it, focused on setting up his apartment, and even applying for late enrollment at Canton University, hoping the school work would take his mind off of everything. He knew that all he was doing was pushing things away, delaying dealing with them, and that he’d have to deal eventually, but not right then. He just couldn’t bear to face the fact that he really was alone. 

~*~

_THEN_

Kitty – 

You’re probably pretty pissed at me. No wait, scratch probably. And there’s nothing I can say in a stupid note to change that, nothing I can say in general. I’m so sorry Kit. You’ve been my best friend and you’re the only one who’s never left me. I’m sorry I had to do this. I’m sorry I’ll never get to take you to the beach I’m sorry I can’t be there for you when you need it I’m sorry this is my last note to you and all it is is filled with apologies and sap. I want to send you off with a joke but I keep thinking of lasts and its not good for joking. I don’t want lasts with you, Kit. But I have to do this, even if you don’t get it I hope you don’t hate me. I’m gonna miss you. Whose gonna make fun of my hair and stand around being so short I look like a giant? Not helping. Point, summed up: I’m sorry. I don’t wanna leave. I have to. Miss you like hell. You’re short and I have perfect hair. 

Love always,  
Bobby.

 

Pete – 

I don’t know what to say, man. You know I suck at this writing thing especially when I have to say good bye to my best friends. There’s no way to do that. I kinda think I’m doing the coward thing writing notes to you guys but yeah, don’t know what to say. Made my decision right or wrong and I have to live with it. I’m sorry you do to. I’m gonna miss you wicked bad, Pete. Take care of yourself and watch out for Marie and Kit and Jubes. 

\- Bobby

 

Jubes – 

Yeah, I know. You hate my guts. Miss you anyway, sparkler. 

\- Bobby

 

Marie – 

When I said I loved you I never lied. I’m sorry for everything. 

Love,  
Bobby

 

Ororo, Logan, and Hank – 

You taught me to do what I think is right. This is what I had to do. Sorry for letting you down. 

\- Bobby


	8. Chapter 8

He was blessedly free from homework that weekend, and Bobby’d decided to make sure that his brain didn’t have to function at all tonight. He’d borrowed a couple of bad movies and had a small stack of mindless video games waiting to be played. Sure, it was Friday night, and there were probably more exciting things he could be doing than planning an all night brain-rotting movie and video game session, but he honestly didn’t really feel like being in public. He just wasn’t up for company right then. He told himself that it had nothing to do with missing Johnny, or the realization that he might have been going a little bit crazy. And he was doing a fairly good job of convincing himself of that, too, because if he _was_ feeling lonely and slightly out of his mind, then obviously the solution to that would be to spend more time with people, right? 

And there was no logic there, Bobby knew that, but he didn’t really care. Instead, he shoved it away, ignoring it. He was good at ignoring things, and he even hummed slightly to himself as he returned to his apartment after a trip downstairs to borrow one of Riley’s horror movies. As he locked the door behind him, though, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up a little. There was someone watching him, he could just _feel_ it. 

Trying not to panic, he immediately slid into a more defensive stance and flicked on the lights. He still hadn’t gotten anything to separate his bedroom from the rest of the apartment, and with the bathroom door open, everything was in full view. There was no one there. Bobby kept silent, anyway, listening for any sound that might indicate there was someone invisible there, but he heard nothing. He checked the bathroom, pushing aside the shower curtain, but when that produced nothing as well, he forced himself to relax. 

It was fairly easy, by now. This wasn’t the first time he thought he’d felt someone’s eyes on him, especially since his little smoking session with Ryn. He’d even started hearing clicking lighters in his sleep, which he was chalking up to paranoia and possibly as a further sign that, yeah, he was a little insane. It made part of him glad that he’d likely never see Johnny again, because then Johnny wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing just how much his memory was haunting Bobby. Like a ghost, which was incredibly unfair, considering how much Bobby given up just to keep Johnny alive. 

“I really _am_ going insane,” Bobby murmured, flicking off the bathroom light and going back out into the living room. 

He switched on the TV, putting in My Bloody Valentine, letting the previews play through while he busied himself in the make-shift kitchen area of his apartment. He pulled out a plate and fixed himself a bologna sandwich, then added a mound of Dorritos and a banana. He grabbed a napkin and a can of Coke, turned back towards the living room, and stopped. The door to the closet he used as a pantry was open, and Johnny was standing in front of it. 

His hair was a little longer than the last time Bobby’d seen him, and the bleach was gone entirely, making him look almost the way he had before he’d left the Institute. For a brief second, Bobby thought he’d moved past going crazy and barreled right into officially insane, complete with hallucinations, and he just stared, shocked. 

Johnny smirked. “Hiya, Drake.” 

Bobby jumped, and the plate tumbled from his hands to shatter on the floor. 

Johnny flinched. “Jesus _fuck_ , Bobby, who the hell buys _ceramic_ plates?” 

Bobby scowled at him. “They were free. Not going to buy plates if I don’t fucking have to,” he said, mostly just to show Johnny that yeah, he could curse, too. Johnny’s ability to swear with impunity had stopped being impressive when Bobby was fourteen. “Although I guess I do _now_ ,” Bobby added darkly, crouching to scoop up the plate, and the ruins of his dinner, and dump it into the garbage can to his right. “What are you doing here, Johnny?” he asked, trying to sound indifferent and not like he’d spent half of his waking moments thinking about him. 

“Call it a belated birthday present,” Johnny replied, the smirk firmly back in place. 

Bobby’s scowl deepened. “That’s not what I meant. Why are you here, _now_? It’s been almost seven months.” 

“And you’ve been hiding from the X-men,” Johnny said. “Which, lame, Drake. Only you would be on the run from someone and not even leave the state.” 

“I’m as far away as I can get with what money I had. Here’s just as good as anywhere else,” Bobby said stubbornly. “And I gave you my phone number.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “You gave me a random cell phone number, with no area code, that didn’t exist yet. What was I supposed to do, try it with every area code in the country? I only found it out when you called me with a Canton area code.” 

Bobby swallowed, flushing a bit. “You got my message? I was drunk.” 

“I noticed,” Johnny replied dryly. 

Bobby tilted his head a little, something occurring to him. “Wait, you’ve been looking for me this whole time?”

Johnny frowned, his expression shutting down a little. “Not the whole time.” 

Bobby took that as a yes. He suddenly felt better, knowing that even if he’d been going slightly insane thinking about Johnny, at least Johnny had been looking for him most of the time. 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Johnny replied, looking around. 

Bobby couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not, but he shrugged, refusing to rise to whatever insult there might have been. “It has all I need.” 

Johnny looked pointedly at the screen, which was now prompting him to push play, and the stack of movies next to the TV. “I can see that. You just fit in immediately wherever you go, don’t you Bobby-boy?” he asked, lip curled slightly in a sneer. 

Bobby laughed. Immediately. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t spent three months ignoring everyone and retreating further and further into himself, or the last four months after that constantly comparing everything about what his life was to what it had been. 

Whatever reaction Johnny had been expecting, it wasn’t laughter, because his eyes narrowed slightly. 

“It’s been seven months,” Bobby said again, softer this time. It was a reply that only vaguely made sense, unless you were in Bobby’s head, but Johnny’s expression softened slightly. “Where have you been?”

Johnny shrugged, fingers slipping into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a lighter, which he fiddled with absently. “Around.” He flicked the lighter open and flames jumped from it. 

Bobby’s reaction was small but instinctive, creating the tiniest shield of ice around his body. It was all but invisible, and should have been unnoticeable, but Johnny’s jaw tightened and the flames grew in size a little. They stared each other down, and Bobby knew this feeling. Not the hopeless determination he’d felt on Alcatraz, when he’d known there’d been no choice besides fighting, but the uncertainty, the anger of their meeting in front of the Cure clinic. 

“You’ve gotten better at controlling your powers since then,” Johnny said softly, as if he knew what Bobby was thinking. “Or maybe I should say better at hiding them.” 

Since then. Since Johnny’d torched an entire building, grinning the whole time. Dozens of innocent people likely burned to death, and Johnny hadn’t cared. Bobby reminded himself of this, repeated it over and over in his head, but standing here, staring at the guy who used to be his best friend, he couldn’t get himself to believe it. 

“So this is how it is?” Johnny asked, voice still quiet. 

Bobby laughed again, because he didn’t know what else to do, and he shook his head and banished the ice. “No, this is how you want it to be.”

“You have no idea what I want,” Johnny replied, expression almost angry. 

Bobby shook his head. He had a million different replies to that, ranging from a sarcastic, ‘and whose fault is that?’ to a simple, ‘then why don’t you tell me?’ but all he said was, “You’re right. I don’t.” 

Johnny blinked at him and the fire at his fingertips dimmed a little. Bobby got the impression that this conversation wasn’t going the way Johnny’d planned, but that just made them even. Nothing had really gone the way Bobby’d planned it, not for a long time. 

“How long have you been here?” Bobby asked, because it just now occurred to him that if Johnny had enough knowledge of his life to know that Bobby had people he talked to regularly, Johnny must have been watching him at least a little bit. 

“Long enough,” Johnny replied. 

Bobby raised one eyebrow. “That’s a shit answer, Johnny, and you know it.” 

Johnny shrugged, back to being calm and in control. Uncaring. Bobby used to be able to see through that, to know it was all an act, but now he wondered. 

“It’s the only answer you’re getting,” Johnny said. 

Bobby resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Fine. Where’re you staying?”

Johnny smirked. “Like I’m going to tell _you_ that.” 

This time, Bobby gave in and rolled his eyes. “Right, because I smuggled you out of there and spent over half a year hiding from the only family I have _just_ so I can lead them to you now. You just don’t want me to be able to find you, it has to be you in control of this.” Whatever this was. If he was ever going to see Johnny again after this, and damn it, why couldn’t he just shut up and tell Johnny how much he’d missed him and that he didn’t want him to go?

Johnny flinched, just a tiny bit, and his eyes flared briefly in anger before his expression hardened. “You should save the sarcasm for people who can actually pull it off.”

“And you should save the mysterious act for someone who hasn’t known you since you were twelve,” Bobby shot back. 

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.” 

Once, that might have hurt, but Bobby’d had seven months to think too much into just how much that wasn’t true. “That’s bullshit and you know it. We’ve always known each other better than anyone, Johnny, it’s how we know exactly how to piss each other off. How to make it hurt.” 

“Stop calling me Johnny,” he said, his jaw clenching. 

Bobby squared his shoulders a little. “No.” 

They stared defiantly at each other, until finally Bobby sighed.

“You’re only proving my point, you know,” Bobby told him. 

Johnny frowned. “What point?”

“That we know each other better than anyone, and can piss each other off faster because of it,” Bobby said. 

“You don’t have to know me to piss me off, you do that just by standing there,” Johnny retorted, voice hard and mean. 

But Bobby’d heard that tone before, way back when he first met Johnny, and Johnny didn’t want to make friends with him, or anyone else. It was his ‘keeping people at a distance’ tone, and Bobby didn’t buy it for a second. “Yeah? Then what are you doing here?”

Johnny hesitated. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you drag me off that island, and get me out of there?” 

Bobby’d known those questions would come sooner or later, but he still didn’t know how to answer them. He’d just – known he couldn’t let Johnny die, or get Cured. And he couldn’t deny that, well, that it hurt, a little, that Johnny didn’t understand why he did it. All right, fuck, a lot more than a little. “I don’t know. I just knew I couldn’t let you die, not while I could do something about it.”

“That’s not anymore of an answer than the one I got last time, Drake,” Johnny bitched at him. 

The temptation to be a dick was so great that the words ‘it’s the only answer you’re getting’ almost left Bobby’s mouth. But he hesitated, stopped at the last second, because as much as he wanted to throw Johnny’s response back at him, he couldn’t. “I can’t give you an answer when I don’t even have one myself,” Bobby replied finally, settling for honesty. “Johnny. Fuck, I – you’re my best friend. That stills means – meant something to me, even if it doesn’t for you. I’m not - I wasn’t ready to give that up.” The amount of tenses changes in there had to be driving Johnny crazy. Bobby was half expecting to get that response handed back to him, covered in red ink. 

The lighter was out again, flicking open and closed rapidly, and Johnny didn’t say anything. Just stood there, somehow managing to look pissed and give off deer-in-the-headlight vibes at the same time. 

Bobby swallowed, and then figured as long as he was going with honesty and digging himself a nice hole, he might as well make it deeper. “The voicemail. I may have been drunk, but – I meant it. What I can remember of it.” 

Johnny clicked the lighter on and left it there, adding the flame to the fire already at his fingertips. “I'm not going to let you do this to me again."

"You're not going to let _me_ do this to _you_ again?" Bobby asked incredulously. "Are you forgetting which one of us tried to _kill_ the other one?"

Johnny flinched, and Bobby - kept going.

"You don't get to do this, Johnny, you don't get to self-righteously talk about what _I've_ done to _you_ when you were the one standing on Alcatraz trying to _burn me alive_." The anger that Bobby'd kept at bay was surfacing now, faster than he could control it.

"I wasn't!" Johnny shouted, actually looking a little bit unnerved, and Bobby wondered what kind of expression on his face. 

"Really?" Bobby demanded, taking a step closer to him. "Because it was really fucking hot from where I was standing, what were you trying to do? See if you could melt me and put me back together again?" 

"Maybe!" Johnny replied, sounding defensive now, and back to looking angry himself. "I wouldn't - you _fucker_ , you were trying to _freeze me_ , don't pin this all on me! I didn't-"

He cut off, and Bobby didn't get the chance to push, because the fire at Johnny's fingertips flared, pulsing out, and the couch in Bobby's apartment lit up in flames. 

Bobby cursed, reacting instinctively and icing his couch over to put out the fire. When he turned his attention away from the couch, peering through the smoke, Johnny was gone. 

He stood there, standing kind of stupidly for a few seconds, trying to figure out _what the fuck had just happened_. Then his brain caught up with him and he darted for the open window, looking out of it. There were char marks on the ground below his window, three stories down, but Johnny was nowhere in sight. 

Apparently Bobby wasn't the only one who'd learned some new tricks. He ducked back inside, fumbling for his phone, and dialing the number to Johnny's cell.

Bobby wasn’t really expecting anything, but when Johnny didn’t answer, he couldn’t help but feeling a little disappointed. “Johnny, you asshole, who the hell sets someone’s couch on fire and then disappears? You’re paying for that.” He hung up before he stopped being able to force his voice into a joking, light-hearted tone, and said something like _'thanks for burning my couch instead of me this time.'_

Then he stared at the cell phone for a brief moment before chucking it against the wall.

His fist followed it, which was a terrible idea, he _knew_ , but he'd done it without thinking. And now there was a hole in his wall, his hand was bruised and bloody, his cell phone was probably broken beyond repair, and his couch was a smoldering mess of charred fabric and ice.

And Johnny was gone again.

There was someone knocking on his door, and before he could decide what to do about it, the door banged open and Ryn stalked into his room.

"Are you all right? I smelled smoke, and I heard-" she cut off as her eyes swept around the room, no doubt taking in the couch and the hole in the wall. "What happened?"

Belatedly, he remembered that she was in the apartment next to his, and the insulation between the walls wasn't actually the best. He wondered how much she'd heard, and was stupidly grateful that most of his conversation with Johnny had been the quiet kind of anger rather than shouting.

He was ready to come up with a lie, a joke to deflect the seriousness and slide away from any conversation that went too deep, the way they all did, but suddenly - he didn't want to. He was tired of lying. "I had an unexpected visitor. It... I'm not sure it went well."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "There's a hole in your wall, your couch is a mess, and so's your hand. I'd say no, it didn't go well."

"Should've seen the last time we met," Bobby muttered. Ryn'd probably take it as a joke, but he meant it. At least this time, they'd had a conversation, messed up as it was.

"Let me see," she said, holding out a hand.

It took him a moment to realize that she was talking about his injured hand, and he lifted it up, grimacing at the ripped skin and the way the blood was actually dripping onto the floor now. _Great_.

She took it, maybe to look it over, but the second her skin touched his, there was a soft, brief green glow around her hand, a sudden warmth in his, and then his skin was knitting itself together almost like what he'd seen on Logan. There was a popping sound and a quick flare of pain in one of his knuckles, but then nothing. The blood on his hand was still there, but there was no sign of an injury, and the pain was gone.

But at the same time as the skin on Bobby's hand had been healing, Ryn's had been ripping open. When his injury was gone, there was a mirror image of it on Ryn's hand - although hers looked a little bit farther along in the healing process than his had. 

Ryn dropped his hand, backing up a step as Bobby stared at her. 

She looked afraid. 

"Bobby," she said, her voice shaking just a little. "This isn't - you can't tell anyone."

Abruptly, he realized that she was afraid of the fact that he'd seen her use her powers, that he'd turn around and tell everyone she was a mutant. It was absolutely ridiculous, but... what he hated most was that it wasn't. If he wasn't a mutant, an X-man - former X-man - it would have been a very real fear. 

"It's okay," he said. "Look-" He put one hand over the other, concentrating on pulling the moisture out of the air to form a simple ice sculpture.

And had yet another abrupt realization of the night - he'd lost track of how many - when it occurred to him that _the door was still open_. Which was brought to his attention because Cass was barging in, shouting about fire and pain and how she'd _seen_ him in danger - and he could hear the italics in her voice. She was followed quickly by Zephyr and Shade, likely drawn in by the sound of Cass running down the hall and yelling.

Suddenly he had a much larger audience than he'd planned, as he pulled his hands apart to reveal a long-stemmed rose, perfectly formed out of ice. 

There was a very long moment of silence, most likely while everyone took in the fact that Bobby'd just made an ice sculpture appear out of nowhere, and maybe put it together with the ice covering the smoldering remains of his couch - though what sense they made of the hole in his wall and Ryn's injured hand, he didn't know - before everyone started talking at once. 

"The ice sculptures?" Zephyr asked. 

"Been doing it since you were twelve, huh?" Shade commented. 

"I don't understand, I _saw_ -" Cass started. 

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway - the still open doorway, damn it - and Bobby fought a weary sigh as he looked over at it again.

Tessa stood in the door, one eyebrow raised, and Bobby winced. This was just _not_ his night. 

"I have a massive headache," she said mildly. "And _none of you are helping_."

"Bobby's a mutant," Shade pointed out. "Sorry for being a little bit _loud_ in our surprise."

Bobby was pretty much an expert on all the ways that someone could say the word "mutant," from absolute disgust to something like reverence, and it... made something in his chest relax, just a little, that the way Shade said it just made it sound like any other word.

"Not that kind of headache," Tessa replied. 

Bobby looked at her sharply, remembering the way she'd watched him when he'd gotten the apartment, how it'd made him automatically strengthen the mental shields he had. He dropped them a little bit now, enough to broadcast _You're a telepath_?

Tessa smiled. "Yes, Bobby, I'm a telepath. Of sorts. And in the interest of getting you all to stop thinking so loudly that you might as well be shouting, yes, Bobby is a mutant. So are Ryn, Cass, Zephyr, Sam, and Dani. Now maybe the constant irritating _angst_ of keeping secrets and hiding your abilities will cease, and I can get some peace around here."

Her proclamation was met with dead silence, but Tessa still winced. "Ow." 

Apparently that hadn't worked as well as she'd thought. Bobby could have told her that, that suddenly _dropping everyone's secrets_ in one sentence was incredibly unlikely to actually stop any kind of panicking thoughts. 

Well. Not all their secrets, but still. Bobby was pretty sure the shields that the Professor had helped him build were strong enough to keep things about the X-man buried, but just in case, he forced himself not to think too much about them. 

And was eternally grateful that he'd had a lot of practice in that with the two most powerful telepaths that likely ever existed. 

"Tessa," Bobby said, drawing her attention. "Do you know how to help people build mental shields?"

She blinked at him, obviously a little surprised, and he felt a bit better about his belief that she didn't know anything about his time as an X-man. 

"In theory," she replied. "Why?"

"Would you be willing to help anyone who wanted to make one? It might make things a bit easier when people are thinking loud enough to get past your own shields," Bobby suggested. "I can try to help, too."

Her eyes narrowed at him, not in annoyance, just speculative. He continued to imagine a thick, clouded ice wall around his thoughts. 

"All right," she replied eventually. "If we're going to have any more visits from your fire friend, I'm going to need them. He certainly brings chaos, doesn't he?"

Bobby couldn't help wincing. "I don't know if he'll be around again," he said, very quietly. 

"He will," Cass said suddenly, the first time anyone'd spoken since Tessa's announcement. 

Tessa turned her raised eyebrow towards her. "Tell your ability it's not helping anything by trying to make sure no one knows about it. It just makes my headache worse."

Cass paled slightly. "It doesn't work that way."

"What is your ability?" Shade asked, sounding curious.

Cass shrugged, almost helplessly, and shook her head. "Nothing all that useful. It won't let me talk about it, I've tried."

"That's... really annoying," Shade ventured. 

"Tell me about it," Cass muttered. 

"I'm a healer," Ryn blurted suddenly, sounding like she'd been working up the courage to say that this whole time. She probably had. 

"Thanks, by the way," Bobby told her, holding up his hand. 

She gave him a small smile. "I can usually control it better, unless someone is in a lot of pain, but your hand wasn't that bad. I don't know what happened."

It felt like there was a question in her words, though Bobby didn't know if it was actually there or if he was just hearing it because he didn't want to answer any questions. Either way, he looked away. There'd been a hell of a lot of pain there, but very little of it was physical. That wasn't something he really wanted to tell anyone. 

"I control air pressure," Zephyr offered, maybe sensing a change in subject was due. 

Bobby smiled slightly. "Ice," he replied. 

"I'm starting to feel really boring," Shade commented, flashing them a grin. It was a little bit shaky, but Bobby couldn't blame him. 

Having all of your friends being mutants might be normal for Bobby, but he suspected it'd be more than a little overwhelming for others.

"I've seen you at the bar, and playing hockey," Bobby pointed out. "You're the opposite of boring." 

Shade grinned at him again, and this time it was a little stronger. 

There was silence again, and Bobby glanced over at the doorway to find that at some point, Tessa had disappeared. Maybe they'd all stopped thinking in shouts. 

"Damn," Bobby commented, mostly to break the silence. "I didn't get to ask her if this was going to come out of my security deposit."

It was enough to get chuckles out of the others, and break a little bit of the tension in the air, though there was still another few moments of quiet.

"...I think we have some things to talk about," Zephyr said.


End file.
